Author Archives: Wicked Emerald

Ghost in a Field

25 Sunday Oct 2020

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I am not sure what I saw. I don’t know if this is what you are looking for but here it goes.

My brother-in-law bought a parcel of farmland, to start an organic farming operation. He had to jump through a lot of bureaucratic hoops as well as years where he couldn’t claim the organic label.

Finally, he was able to acquire organic status but at this point, he was pretty broke. The whole family pitched in to help which is why I was out in the field, I’m a systems analyst. I have no experience in farming.

My sister and her husband had cauliflower and cabbage that needed to be harvested. He couldn’t afford to hire outside workers. So he asked for help.

I was out, in the field, harvesting some of the crop. I had been at it all day; the sun was starting to go down. I was looking down my row, to see how much more needed to be pulled and I saw a man, just standing in the field. The light wasn’t great, I thought he might have been one of my relatives or one of my brother-in-law’s friends, so I waved. He didn’t wave back, he just stood there, seemed to be staring at me. I called out to him but there was no response. Nothing.

It was pretty creepy; I was by myself in this section. I could see other people, but they were pretty far off. I guess they would have heard me if I yelled loud enough. I called out to the guy again. He just stood there. I was getting suspicious, like maybe he was up to something, maybe stealing some of the crop. I started to walk toward him, figuring he would run off. No. He just stood there and seemed to be staring at me. It was really kind of scary. I thought about turning around and finding someone to help but, there was no one close enough. The guy would have run off, with his haul, by the time I got back.

So, I kept walking toward him. I could see that he was dressed in field clothes, old jeans, and a shirt. The light was really fading but he seemed to have dark hair, not very tall.

Then suddenly, he was gone. I mean, just winked out. Gone. One minute he was there, the next, nothing.

I don’t mind admitting, I was pretty freaked out. I ran up to the spot where he had been standing. I had a hat with those lights on, we would pick until after dark. I flipped the lights on. He was gone, he was not lying on the ground, hiding. He had not run away. He was just gone. I looked down to see where his footprints were leading. There were no footprints. This is farm soil, there should have been footprints. The air turned cold, ice cold. I was suddenly, completely scared. It was in the air. Fear, I was breathing in, fear.

No, that’s not right. I terrified. I thought I had experienced fear before but not like this. My bladder let go. Embarrassing but I was so frightened, so scared, I had no control. Then I heard godawful moaning sounds. That was it, I took off running. Through the crops. I didn’t stop until I hit the area where we had parked our vehicles, earlier; had to have been close to an entire acre away. My brother-in-law was there, he was with a couple of other people, loading the day’s pick into the back of his truck.

I was leaning against my car and started to vomit. I was shaking, I was completely out of breath, my legs were jelly. My brother in law ran up to me, really concerned. I did my best to tell him what happened, in between gasps of air. He called to the guys he had been with, and the three of them, headed out to investigate.

They came back, a short time later, they had not seen a soul, they had found nothing. I wasn’t surprised. I knew no one was there. It was dark now, the sun was gone. Everyone started to come in. There was a lot of conversation about what happened. Some people laughed, said it was too much sun. Some people just looked at me, like I was nuts.

A few months later, my sister and my brother-in-law came to my place for dinner; my brother-in-law drew me aside. Word of what happened to me, spread through his little town. Probably started as a funny story about city folks. Except, turns out, it wasn’t so funny at all.

There was a previous owner of the land I was working, he used to bring in migrant workers. Rumour had it that he did not treat them well. If the day’s quotas were not met, he wouldn’t feed them. They were forced to find shelter in his barn, with his cows. There were no facilities. No showers. If they wanted to bathe, it had to be in the irrigation ditches.

There were darker rumours of physical abuse, beatings and worse, that the workers were chained up at night. One of the workers went missing. Shortly after the talk of the missing man started to spread, the farmer was busted for his treatment of the workers. Not much was done, the workers were sent home, some of them found work on other farms but they insisted one of their number had vanished. The workers report the disappearance, to the authorities – the police, when the farm was raided. From the looks of things, they were ignored.

The man was a migrant, no status and it appears, only his friends, cared. People assumed he had just taken off, to escape the abuse, maybe heading to the city but some of the workers, insisted, described a terrible beating, out in the fields. They reported hearing screams and seeing one of the farmer’s regular hands swinging a shovel, up and down, the sound of that shovel hitting something. The screams, quickly, stopped. They reported, later, the farmer and his farmhand, were seen dragging something toward an outbuilding and the sound of machinery. The migrants claimed the farmer’s employee had killed their friend, beating him to death and that the farmer helped to dispose of the poor migrant’s body, in a woodchipper.

It turns out, that the field, where I had been working, was the spot where the migrant had been murdered. I am not saying I saw his ghost. I don’t know what it was. I will say that I have never gone out in the fields since, I still help but from the safety of the vehicles. Loading produce.

Ghost in the Mirror

01 Saturday Nov 2014

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scary-mirror-girl-live-wallpap-981518-2-s-307x512This made us put our house up for sale after only a few months. I don’t know if it happened to anyone else but the house had a few other owners before us and I wonder if this isn’t the reason.

There were no cold spots or weird feelings when we bought the place. It was just a house. It fit what we needed and it meant we were finally getting on our way. It wasn’t an old Victorian home or a family homestead. It was just a house in the suburbs, 3 bedrooms, 1.5 bathrooms, half decent yard and a finished basement; it was built in the housing boom of the early sixties.

The first creepy thing that happened was when I was getting ready for bed. I was standing at my dresser, brushing my hair in front of the mirror, our cat was sitting on top of the dresser watching me. Suddenly he leapt up and arched his back, he started hissing at something. I turned around to see what had him so pissed off. There was nothing there. He jumped off the dresser and bolted under my bed. I turned back to the mirror and I figured it was just one of those crazy cat things. There was something over my left shower, in the doorway, where Shadow had been staring. It was like a fog but there was a face. It wasn’t clear but I had the distinct impression that it was a man. I spun around, I remember my brush flying out of my hand and hitting the wall. There was nothing there. Nothing. No shadow, no face, no man. Nothing but doorway and the hall beyond.

I was so scared, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even call my husband. I don’t know how long I stood there until I could call out to R. I finally managed and he raced up the stairs. I told him what happened and he told me it was probably a light reflection from outside or just some kind of light trick. I brought up the cat and R. said he was nuts anyway and not to worry about it. I tried to feel better about it but I didn’t sleep very well that night. Shadow refused to come out from under the bed until sometime during the day, while we were at work. I started to do my nightly brushing in the bathroom. I didn’t care what R. thought; I didn’t want to see that trick of the light again.

Later that week, Mr. Trick of the Light was in his man-cave puttering around with something. All of a sudden, I hear him pounding up the stairs, the front door flung open and he was outside. I went to door to see what the problem was and I saw him disappear around the back of the house. He came back a few minutes later; he was pretty upset about something but he refused to tell me what it was. It didn’t matter what I said and he started to get mad at my attempts to find out what was bothering him so I just shut up.

We went on up to bed. It was starting to get cold, so I went into our spare room which was used for storage as well as a guest room. I wanted to get another blanket for the bed. I went to pull the blanket out of the drawer and it slapped shut, just missing my hand. It didn’t just close a little bit, it slammed shut. I was freaked. The blanket stayed where it was, half in, half out of the drawer. I took off to our bedroom, R. was sitting on the bed and I was crying at this point. I told him what had happened and he got up to go to the room, I followed him. I was still crying. I was scared to death. R. opened the drawer and pulled out the blanket. He opened and closed the drawer a few times, there was nothing wrong. It opened and closed normally. This time he didn’t try to offer and explanation. He brought the blanket back to our room and I put it on the bed. We didn’t say a word.

We were lying in bed, and R. told me why he raced out of the house. He was fixing a chair on his workbench, there is a window over the bench. He was turning a screw and looked up at the window. There was a man’s face. An old man, looking in at him. He figured we had a prowler and raced up to catch him. The yard is fenced and his window faced the fenced area. There is only one way out, through a gate or through the house. The gate was closed and no one was there. Neither of us slept very well that night; we talked about possibilities and they were all too flimsy to be believable.

In the morning, we were sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and drinking coffee. Shadow was sitting on the window sill, grabbing some sun; he jumped off the sill and took off out of the room. It happened so fast that I almost spilled my coffee. My husband, in a really quiet voice said to me “C. look, look at the window!” There was a face. It wasn’t like a real person, the face was kind of misty, out of focus and that window is over 7 feet from the ground. No one could be standing there and looking in, without a ladder. Then, it just disappeared. It didn’t fade away, it just kind of popped out. Gone.

What happened next, sealed the deal for us. The cream flew off our counter and hit the floor. It was about 6 inches from the edge. It didn’t just tip over, it flew off that counter and hit the floor. We packed a few things, grabbed Shadow and called the real estate agent from R.’s parents’ home. We put it up for sale and took a loss. We just couldn’t spend another minute in that house. I don’t know if anyone else had bad experiences, I do know that the house has been put up for sale twice, in the past year.

The Dead Want What They Want

21 Tuesday Oct 2014

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PapaAbout 15 years ago, my mother began to experience problems in the family home. I had always felt “something” in the house but it was also just out of the line of sight. You felt it more than anything else; sometimes, you heard it. By and large, it was easy to chalk up to imagination, which is what I did.

But when the dead want what they want; events can become a lot more difficult to simply dismiss as the “house settling” or a “trick of the light.”

Initially, Mom heard noises and she did exactly what is mentioned above, she assigned them to the house settling.

Then things started to be “misplaced” and she put that down to a failing memory even though she was a sharp as the proverbial tack.

A couple of photos fell off the wall and the noises increased. She also told me in confidence that she felt like she was being watched.

Then, while doing laundry, someone touched her back – she was home, alone. My father had gone out.

The final straw came when she saw a dark, shapeless mist-like form in her hallway. She called me in to help her out.

I have to tell you that I wasn’t too keen on the idea. The house had begun to feel immensely, well – creepy – over the short term. My husband had seen something in the basement, a couple of weeks prior to this and it scared him badly enough that he insisted we leave, immediately.

I decided the safest course of action was a reading of the Tarot. The contact between whatever and me would be buffered. The reading identified the restless spirit in Mom’s house as her natural father. (He had passed when Mom was 4, from tuberculosis.) He was unhappy and angry at the circumstances in which he found himself. Angry that he was taken from his wife and family. Angry at his fate. Just a sincerely unhappy camper and he wanted everyone to know about it.

Mom came up with a plan after we discussed what I seemed to be learning. She put my grandfather’s photo next to my grandmother’s and things quieted right down. Not completely but a definite improvement over what was.

Ghost On A Ship

19 Sunday Oct 2014

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PhoenixMy grandfather was from Newfoundland; an outport where job opportunities were, for all intents and purposes, non-existent. It was a subsistence existence which was almost totally reliant on favours of the North Atlantic. I believe the Titantic represents how favourable the North Atlantic is to humanity.

At 12 years old, an opportunity to serve as a cabin boy on a whaling ship came my grandfather’s way; he accepted and off he went. It never occurred to him to ask why this job had so suddenly become available.

The ship set sail and after they had been at sea for about 2 weeks; Papa went top side for some much needed fresh air. This was circa 1908 and there were no on-board shower facilities; men, sweat and poor diet took its toll on the atmosphere.

The night was calm, he remembered and the moon was bright; he started to walk toward the ship’s bow when he saw a small figure – it was another boy. Papa waved to him and hailed when it dawned on him that this had to be a stowaway as no other boys were aboard and he knew his crew mates by sight. He turned around and a hailed the midshipman; the man came running and Papa pointed to the boy, or where the boy had been. He was gone. When Papa explained what he had seen, the midshipman became agitated and frightened. He told my grandfather to get below deck and stay there. The midshipman followed and went toward the captain’s quarters. Papa heard them talking in excited and raised voices.

The next morning, the First Mate came to see Papa, a no-nonsense Englishman with a bad temper and quick hand. He told Papa he was never to go on deck, at night, again, unless he told another crew member. To make his point, he cuffed Papa on the side of his head. Message was received. A storm hit and it was a bad one. Papa remembers being terrified. The pitching of the ship and the water breaking on the deck, rushing down the stairs and making walking next to impossible. Helping to prepare the meals was out of the question and Papa was instructed to stay in the galley with the cook. Safer than his small cabin in the hull.

Later on in the voyage, Papa wanted to go topside again and as instructed, advised one of the other crewmen; they went up together. Papa remembers they were talking amiably and the sailor was telling him about other voyages when the sailor abruptly stopped and was looking toward the bow. Papa saw what made the seaman stop – standing on the very bow of the ship was a small figure. He was pointing toward the horizon and then, disappeared. Just like that – simply disappeared as if he were never there. The sailor who accompanied Papa turned and fled down the stairs, leaving Papa alone. Something the first mate had forbidden and even the sailors were wary of the First Mate. Papa followed; he was terrified by the spectre he had seen but even more terrified of the First Mate finding out he was topside, alone.

Again, he heard raised voices; the sailor returned and instructed Papa to never speak of what they had seen to anyone else.

The next day, another storm hit. Papa was too busy to give the previous night’s events much thought. In fact, he was too busy for several days, helping to repair storm damage.

The rest of the voyage was without further incident. Upon returning home, the sailor with whom he had shared the vision of the boy, accompanied Papa back home. Following the greetings from his family and sitting down to a hearty downhome meal of fish and brewis, Papa went to bed. He lay there listening to the adults talk; his sailor friend was telling Papa’s father about the ship and advising that Papa should not go back out for the next trip. He told my great-grandfather about the spectre; he said that he believed it to be the ghost of Papa’s predecessor; a young boy of 13 who had been swept overboard during a storm and lost at sea. When the boy was seen by a crew member, a storm always followed.

Papa remained landlocked and the ship sailed without him. The sailor returned for a visit a couple of years later and he told Papa that another boy, older that Papa had been consigned to his position; that boy had also seen the spectre and shortly thereafter, disappeared without a trace. The crew assumed he fell overboard and drowned.

Hag of Bell Island and Mine Shaft 2

18 Saturday Oct 2014

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Bell Island LighthouseBell Island, Newfoundland is rich with myth and legend. For many years, the area was mined for iron; as you may expect, lives were lost. The mines have long since been shut down and entrances sealed but ghosts are not easily deterred.

There are reports of shadows of men leaving mine shaft 2, as if at shift end.

The ghost of woman has been reported, standing and watching the mine entrance, perhaps waiting for a loved one from long ago. Miners reported seeing the ghost of a man who, reportedly, had died after being struck by a falling rock.

The most famous non-corporeal being on Bell Island is the Bell Island Hag. It must be remembered that many of Newfoundland’s settlers were Irish and they brought their legends with them, across the Atlantic.

Apparently, origin of the Bell Island hag is found in a tragic tale of death. A young woman became lost in the Bell Island marshes (Dobbin’s Garden marsh); she cried out for help but the townspeople feared the marsh. They believed the little people inhabited the area. Irish folk do not interfere in the lives of little people in the hope that the little people will leave them alone. Little people are the source of bad luck, missing and broken objects, disappearances and even death. The woman screamed for help but the people in the town closed the windows, doors and ears to the cries which became increasingly pitiful until they suddenly ceased. It is assumed that she died although a body was never recovered.

After her tragic death, men began to report losing days after venturing into the marsh; emerging with confused tales of a beautiful woman or a horrible hag but with one consistent detail – a horrible smell of decay and death surrounding them. The last thing many remembered was being forced to lie down by one of the two figures. (One imagines that the beautiful woman entity has far less difficulty getting the men to “lay upon the ground”)

There are also tales of a Banshee wail prior to the death of inhabitants close to the marsh.

Some people believe that the little people took the woman and are responsible for the missing memories/days of the men who were so foolhardy as to enter the marsh alone.

Royal Victoria Hospital and the Gentleman Caller

18 Saturday Oct 2014

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Some of the most interesting events and inexplicable sightings have come from folks working in hospitals.  It makes sense; many people leave this mortal coil in hospital.  Hospital staff will not part with these tales willingly; there is the potential for job loss, so anonymity is key for them, in addition – like anyone else, they don’t wish to be seen as flakey or plain nuts, so many health care professionals remain “mum”.

This one is from the Royal Vic, a well-known hospital in Montreal.  This is from a nurse who wishes to remain anonymous.

I was working at the R.V. and I had been on this particular floor for several months.  I was pulling a night shift.  Around 1:30 in the morning, a patient required attention; I approached the patient’s bed and she was very agitated.  She asked me why the old man was in the room, walking about.  There were four beds in this room, 3 were occupied and one was open for an admittance; I scanned the room and there was no one out of bed.  The patient insisted that an old man had walked into the room and stood at the end of the bed across from her own.  He turned and looked at my patient, then walked out.  The lady in the bed was very ill and to my knowledge, had not received any visitors in the time that she had been moved to our floor.  It was very sad.

I promised the agitated patient that I would check the floor and ensure the gentleman was directed to leave.  I looked down the hall and did a quick run of the rooms to make sure that the man was found.  No one was out of the bed and there were no visitors.  I called security to report the incident.  The guard came up and did a sweep of the floor – no one.  About an hour later, the patient summoned me again.  I went back to her bedside and sure enough, she reported the man again.  I calmed her down and when I went back to the station, I checked her chart for meds.  Sometimes medication can cause hallucinations; I made notes and intended to discuss the situation with day staff.  Something caused me to look up and sure enough, I saw what looked like the shadow of a man walking into the room where my patient was located.  I called security again and took off down the hall.  I entered the room, no one was there.  The patient who had alerted me was, at this point, extremely upset.  Security arrived and we did a thorough search of the area but the thing is, I saw the man enter the room but never saw him leave the room.  There is no way he could have exited without my seeing him.

We found no one.  The security guard remained on the floor until 4:00 am.  He checked the area thoroughly.  My shift ended and I reported the occurrence to day staff, then went home.  When I arrived for my shift that night, I learned the patient across from my agitated lady had passed away.

I later learned that this gentleman had been seen before and always just before a patient passed away.

Le Pionnier – Haunting in Pointe-Claire

09 Thursday Oct 2014

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Chenier

Chenier/Pointe-Claire Hotel/Pionnier/Clyde’s

Located in Pointe-Claire Village, Pointe-Claire, QC

From what I understand, the ghosts at this location are kept “under wraps”, no pun intended.

This area of Pointe-Claire is very rich in history; dating back to the mid-1600’s.

As per the Ville de Pointe-Claire web site: The Charlebois Hotel, c. 1910

According to the registry, Lot 64 – where 286 Lakeshore is located – has been the site of innkeeping activities since at least the 1880’s. Then operated by Louis Labelle, “innkeeper of the parish”, on the property of his wife, Émilie Charlebois, the site was sold to Thomas and Herménégilde Duchesneau in 1886.

It was then purchased by Léon Charlebois in 1894; his name is legible on signs hung on the building at the turn of the century. Subsequent deeds indicate the owners to be Ferdinand Lanthier in 1896; Mélanie David, wife of William Rickner, in 1900; and Wilfrid and Napoléon Schetagne in 1901.

In 1904, Napoléon sold his share to Wilfrid and waived his “right to operate a hotel… within the limits of the village of Pointe Claire”. In 1907, Wilfrid sold it to Edmond Malette with “all the furnishings of the hotel”.

In 1925, Sylva Malette sold to Willie Bougie, innkeeper of Lachine, who in turn sold it to Léo Chénier in 1926. The hotel was henceforth called Chénier, and kept this name until the building was sold in 1947 to new proprietors, Albert Brisebois and Gustave Paquin. When Brisebois bought his partner’s share ten years later, the hotel was named the Pointe-Claire Hotel.

In the 70’s; the hotel ceased to exist. During the late 60’s and early 70’s; the hotel had garnered a very bad reputation. It had become rundown and shabby, catering to a shadowy clientele. It was sold and the new owners renamed it as “Le Pionnier”  renovating and making over the building, leaving the historic exterior but gutting the second floor to create a mezzanine. They left the third floor intact, replete with the rooms which were pressed into service as offices for the owners and storage. Some remained empty.

In the late 70’s, I worked there, on the second floor mezzanine. My shift finished early in the morning hours; frequently, not leaving before 4 or 5 in the morning. On occasion, I would have to bring various items upstairs for deposit in the owners’ offices. I hated going up those stairs. The atmosphere was so completely opposite to the fun and good natured havoc of the bars below. It was an oppressive feeling; like you were being watched but by someone very close. If I could avoid going, I would. One night I had some paperwork that needed to be left for one of the owners. I couldn’t talk anyone else into going up those stairs. We never discussed it, out loud; new employees were usually put to service by running whatever errand needed to be run, upstairs. It wasn’t long before they suddenly became too busy to oblige.

The first incident happened shortly after I was hired. I had to bring some paperwork up to the office.   Walking up the stairs, I felt like someone was behind me, it felt like it but it wasn’t possible. The stairs were very narrow and I was absolutely alone. Upon reaching the third floor, I walked down the hallway; the floor was oppressive and had a very unpleasant odour due to age and neglect. I placed the papers on the desk and turned around to see someone hurry past the doorway; it was only a couple of steps away but when I reached the hall – there was no one in sight. There was no sound of someone walking down the stairs and all the doors to the other rooms were closed, someone opening and closing the door would have been heard. I was, to say the least, creeped out. I, virtually, ran down the stairs.

The second incident occurred about a month later; again, I had to bring something upstairs – I think it was my tape from the night’s sales, regardless, up I went again. Again, I felt as if I was not alone and apparently, I wasn’t. I was in the office, putting my tape in an envelope when someone put their hand on my back. My boyfriend at the time also worked at the bar and so I figured it was him. I was wrong. I turned around, to give him hell for creeping up on me but there was no one there. I took off through the doorway and saw a dark shape move through one of the closed doors.

That was the last time I ever agreed to go up to the third floor again.

A few years ago, I found myself back in that bar with a few friends; the young woman waiting our table and I struck up a conversation – old day vs the now kind of thing. The girl brought up the third floor. We ended up talking about it which was a taboo topic back in the day. Taboos change. She was a little hesitant with her questions – beating about the bush.

Had I ever been up there?

What was it used for, back then?

Did I know anything about the history of the place?

I knew what she was trying to get at but was tentative about how this topic would be received. So I ask her if something spooky had happened to her and her body language showed immediate relief. Yes, she told me and related her tale of the third floor; she had gone upstairs for some supplies, when she reached the top of the stairs she saw, what she thought was the shadow of someone going into a room.

As she walked down the hallway, she noticed that the door to the room, where she had seen the shadow, was closed.  She went to the supply room and as she was opening a box, she felt someone behind her. When she turned, she saw a dark form wavering in the doorway, she fell over a box trying to back away. The form came into the room but rather than advance on her, it turned and seemed to go through the wall.

She went on to tell me that other co-workers had also experienced inexplicable occurrences in the building.

Sometimes A Deal? Isn’t.

27 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by in Ghosts and Apparitions, Poltergeists and Things That Go Bump

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Here’s an example of an unusual event connected to something mundane and probably not something any of us would consider but perhaps we should.  This was submitted to me via e-mail.  Feel free to submit your own.  Your privacy is guaranteed.  I will not post any identifying details without your permission. 

estate saleMy wife and I were taking a Saturday drive along the lakeshore.  The scenery is great and the houses along the way are something else to see, huge and most of them are very, very old.

One of the houses was having a yard sale.  In this neighborhood, this was very rare so we stopped.  It looked like it might be an estate sale because it was like the entire house had been emptied on the front lawn.

While my wife was peeking in boxes and meandering from table to table; I started talking to one of the people that seemed to be hosting the sale.  The house had belonged to a very wealthy couple.  The wife had died some years before and the gentleman lived alone with the exception of a housekeeper.  There was no family.  The man became a bit of a recluse when his wife died.  He spent most of his time sitting on the large wraparound balcony, weather permitting, looking out at the lake. When the weather turned cold, he would sit in his parlor, looking out through a large window.

The man had died and left what he had to the housekeeper.  She did not want the house or the contents, instead she planned to move back to Ireland, where she was from and retire, so she put the house up for sale and decided to get rid of the contents.  She just wanted everything gone as quickly as possible so that she could get on with her own life.

The story hit me as being very sad.  Here was this man’s life spread out on his front lawn for strangers to pick at, wag their tongues over.  I didn’t want to stay around any longer, it was depressing.  So, I found my wife and convinced her that she had bought enough, that it was time to go home.

My wife prattled on and on about her new purchases and I told her the history of the house.  I felt bad because she seemed to be a little less happy with her buys.  We talked about the man and how sad that the things he and his wife had collected were going to strangers for the cheapest price.

My wife had bought china tea cups and saucers, some statuettes and a box of silver cutlery. When we got home, she washed everything and put them on display in her china cabinet.

I have to be honest and say that I quickly forgot about the old man.  I have kids, a job and a house to maintain and these take up a lot of my time.

About 2 weeks after the sale, we were having dinner when my wife asked me about how long it takes silver to tarnish.  I had to admit that I didn’t know but told her to look it up on the internet.  She then went on to warn the kids off of touching anything in her cabinet.  All 4 of them denied being in the cabinet and we have 4 boys.  None of them should have been interested in china and knick knacks.  My wife lifted up her hands and told them that all she was saying was that someone had been in the cabinet and things have been moved but it wasn’t her.

The next afternoon, when I had arrived home from work, all the boys had been gathered into the living room and my wife was on a tear.  On the coffee table was one of her estate sale purchases, a little statue of a woman in period clothing, apparently that was where she had found it when she came home from work.  It didn’t make sense because she was home before the boys arrived from school and I’m pretty sure that the statue wasn’t there when I left for work and I’m the last one out of the house.  But to be honest, I didn’t really check to see if anything was out of place in there.  Although, I like to think I would have noticed that.

The boys were all denying touching the thing and the little one was almost in tears.  So I stepped in and cut the discussion short.  I promised my wife that I would look for the key to the cabinet and we would keep it locked in the future.  That seemed to mollify her a bit but she was still glaring at the boys as they made their escape to their room or out of doors.

A couple of nights later, when we were in bed; I heard the sound of the cabinet or something in the cabinet rattling.  My wife was asleep.  I figured it was one of the boys messing around but I had found the key, the cabinet was locked and if they tried to force it?  It would break.  I crept down the stairs and around a corner into the living room.  The light from the street lit the room enough for me to see that none of my kids were there.  I checked the cabinet doors; they were locked tight.  When I turned around?  There, on the coffee table, was the same statue as the other day.  I tried the doors on the cabinet again and they were locked tight.  I checked where I had hidden the key, on the top of the cabinet, a good 7.5 feet.  The key was still there.  I took the key down and opened the cabinet, intended to put the statue back.  When I turned around, there seemed to be a shadow standing next to the table and the statue.  It moved off into the hallway and disappeared.  I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I realized that the drapes were open in the living room and convinced myself that a car must have gone by and that the shadow was my own as the vehicle passed the house.  I put the statue back, locked the cabinet and replaced the key.  I was pretty shook up but went back to bed.  I looked in on the boys, fully expecting them to be gathered together giggling at the joke they had pulled on their father.  They were all in their rooms and sound asleep.  The joke was on me alright, it wasn’t them.

I was the first one up, I didn’t sleep very well.  I couldn’t get the cabinet or the shadow off my mind.  I made it a point to walk through the living room and to my relief, the statue was still in the cabinet, where I had put it the night before.

The day started normally but when I got home, my wife was in a state and the boys were nowhere to be seen.  She was almost hysterical, she pulled me into the living room.  She had the silver case on the coffee table, the silver was black.  Not just a little tarnished as you would expect but black but that wasn’t all apparently.  My wife told me that the statue was back on the coffee table when she got home.  She blamed the boys and had sent them all to their rooms.

I pulled out the silver polish from the kitchen and some cloths; I had my wife sit down with me and we polished to silver together.  I told her that I did not think it was the children messing with her statue but that I couldn’t offer any explanation.  The statue was in the cabinet when I left for work, of that, I was sure because I had double checked.  She started to cry.  I really didn’t know what to do.  I called the boys down and we all decided to go out for pizza, get some fresh air and perspective.  I put the silver away myself and locked the cabinet.

We went out for dinner.  I found myself getting more and more nervous as we neared the house.  I was really scared that the statue would be on the table again.

It wasn’t.  The rest of the evening was uneventful and we all went to bed.  About 3:00 am in the morning, our youngest started to howl, he’s 6.  My wife and I jumped out of bed to see what had happened.  We literally ran into the other boys as they too, ran to see what had happened to the little one.  We piled into his room and he was sitting up in his bed, crying his eyes out.  My wife reached him first.  She looked at me and told that he was shaking like a leaf.  The other three boys were huddled near the door, watching.  I turned to tell them to go back to bed, that we would take care of things and I saw a shadow, standing right behind them.  It had a definite outline of a person about 5’5.  I jumped off the bed toward the boys, pushing them away from the shadow.  My wife must have seen it as well because she screamed; of course this scared all the kids so they all started to cry.  The shadow seemed to melt away, into the wall on the opposite side of the hall.  It wasn’t a car on the street making the shadow.

We packed up the kids and went took them to my sister-in-law’s place.  My wife stayed with them and I came back to the house.  On the coffee table was the statue.  I am really freaked out at this point.  I will be honest, I didn’t know what to do.  I picked up the statue and I almost threw it against the wall.  I threw it on the couch instead.

I forced myself to walk through the house.  I don’t know what I was looking to find.  Which was good because I found nothing.

I left the house, locked up and joined the family.

We sat up talking with my sister-in-law all night.  She suggested calling someone.  Some kind of psychic or a priest.  I kept thinking of the Ghostbusters movie and that we could really use those guys.  I didn’t want to call some weirdo or priest.  This was my house and my family.  It was rough not being able to protect them and I had to go along with the suggestion because I didn’t have a clue what to do.  So, my sister-in-law hit the internet.

She gave me a short list.  A couple of the names were priests and the remaining 3 were mediums or something.  I booked off work, so did my wife and we started to make calls.  We reached the third one, a woman and after telling her what was going on, she agreed to meet us at our house.  The kids were still sleeping, beat after all the excitement the night before.  My sister-in-law agreed to watch them so my wife and I took off.

There was a woman walking around the place when we got to our home.  She introduced herself and got right down to business.  She asked us if we minded staying outside while she did what she called a “walkthrough”.  After about 15 minutes she came out of the house.  Not quite as cheerful as she had been when we first met.  In fact, she was kind of shaken up.  I suggested we all go for coffee.

She told us that the house had a very disturbed energy source.  She sensed it was female and seemed to be attached to the living room.  She asked us a bunch of questions about the house; had we always lived there and we had.  We bought the house, brand new.  She asked us if anyone close to us had died recently and that was a negative.  It was my wife that came up with the idea that the statue was involved.  We told the woman about the estate sale, the story about the old man and that the statue was one of the things we had bought.  The medium or whatever she was, did a face palm.  She told us that we had a few choices; do a cleansing, which may or may not work, sell the piece in which case we would just be passing on the problem or return it to the house.

She came back to the house with us.  My wife decided that everything she had bought should go back.  The woman agreed. She offered to do a reading of the items to see if she could get a better handle on what was happening.

Apparently, the energy attached to the items was the woman who had owned them.  She didn’t quite understand that she was dead and was upset that her “things” had been taken.  That was enough for me.  I went to the garage pulled out a few boxes, the wife and I packed up all the things she had bought at the sale.  When we pulled out the silver box, sure enough, the silver was pitch black with tarnish again.  The medium said the old woman attached to the items was to blame.  Me?  I don’t know.  After what I had seen over the past few weeks.  I was willing to believe anything.

I asked the medium what she was charging us for this visit and she waved me off, told me it was free of charge.  She just asked she be allowed to accompany us to return the stuff.

We drove over to the house, it looked deserted.  I rang the doorbell a couple of times, eventually the door opened and an older woman peered out at us.  We explained that we were returning some goods that we had purchased and told her what was in the boxes.  She said she couldn’t give us our money back.  I didn’t care, I just wanted to be rid of the things.  She agreed to take the items back.  I brought the boxes in and put them down.  The old lady asked me why we didn’t want the items and I didn’t really want to tell her, appear foolish.  The medium answered for me and explained what was going on.  She asked if she could communicate with the former owner.  The request was denied and we simply piled back in our car for the drive home.

We had no more troubles after that day.  Not one.  It was hard to convince the kids to sleep in their own rooms but eventually, they calmed down and were able to get back into normal routine although, I don’t think they or we will ever forget the experience.

A few weeks later, the medium called us to tell us that she had gone back to the house, spoken with the woman looking after the place, only to find out that this was the old housekeeper who simply wanted to sell and go back to Ireland.  The housekeeper confided that we weren’t the first people to return goods that had belonged to the “Mrs.” In addition, she was having a hard time selling the place.  She agreed to let the medium “clear” the house, whatever that means and the medium believes it was successful.  I guess it was.  I drove by the place a few weeks later and it was sold.

This incident left a mark on my wife and I.  We will never buy anything second hand again.

Can Vehicles Be Haunted? Apparently, so.

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

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In the 1990’s, there was a horrible truck accident; the driver died. The company that owned the truck, salvaged whatever parts they could off the vehicle and the parts were then re-cycled for use in their rolling stock. This may sound horrible and heartless but is common practice with any vehicle. If not the company that owns the vehicle, then the scrap yard that receives the wreck.

A driver for this company was assigned a truck. The model of the tractor is usually called a “sleeper” because it is equipped with a bunk. He would often have “runs” that required he shut down and sleep.

The truck drove well and the driver went about his duties. He first noticed a problem when he had to shut it down and take some rest. He was awaked by a nightmare; a crash, fire and feeling like he was trapped. He attributed the disturbing dream to greasy food and fatigue but every time he stopped his vehicle and tried to grab some sleep, the same thing would happen. He would suffer a nightmare and awaken, often more exhausted than he had been when crawled into the bunk.

The nightmares always had elements of a crash, sometimes one, sometimes a few, sometimes all of the terrifying aspects. Fire, the sound of metal crushing, stamping on brakes and nothing happening, the smell and sound of fire, being unable to escape.

The driver soon found himself unable to sleep in the truck at all; unwilling to allow himself to sleep in case the dreams came back. This was leading to a very dangerous situation, an exhausted truckdriver, unable to take time to shut down and sleep.

The truck started to experience some mechanical issues and it was sent to the company’s garage for repairs, some distance away. While the truck was being repaired, the driver began to hear rumours circulating about his truck and a few others. Always the same, the drivers unable to sleep, nightmares and in some cases, feelings of unease, hair standing up on the back of their necks and baseless fear.

The driver was talking to a mechanic about his truck; it had been gone a while and he was commenting on the length of time it was taking to get it back. The conversation took an unexpected turn for the driver when the mechanic told him of other drivers having similar issues but in different trucks. The mechanic told him that these trucks had one thing in common, they all contained re-cycled parts from a deadly accident the year before, the driver had, it was suspected, fallen asleep, the truck and trailer left the road, crashed and had caught fire, the driver either never regained consciousness or was trapped, dying in his cab.

Apparently, the rumours had been circling among the drivers for some time. The truck never made it back to the driver; it was kept at the main garage and was turned into a general utility vehicle. It never hit the road again and the driver in this story? He was assigned another truck and never experienced nightmares again.

Old Orchards Aren’t Just For Apples…

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

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Brown_ladyNames will be changed to protect identities. Sorry but it’s the only way I could get permission to relate the events to you.

In the N.D.G. district of Montreal, you will find the street, Old Orchard. Below Sherbrooke Street, is an old three story walk-up apartment and the location of some pretty scary events. The individual involved is extremely level headed and not prone to flights of imagination by any means and if you ask him about the story? He will not discuss it, for a couple of reasons; first, and foremost, he is not inclined to be the object of someone else’s disbelief and amusement, second, talking about what went on still scares him.

The gentleman who shared this story with me will be referred to as M, his female companion will be C and their child will be referred to as B.

Shortly after the birth of his first child, M and his companion moved into a 3 story walk-up on Old Orchard in N.D.G. It was a typical older building in the neighbourhood, nothing to look at and the interior was unkempt. Their apartment was long and narrow, the rooms connected by an equally long and narrow hallway. It was rather dark and not a very cheery place.

It wasn’t long before they experienced some rather bizarre goings-on. They would put an article down in one spot, only to find it had been moved. Doors would open of their own volition but as mentioned, M was logical about the doors and attributed the opening and closing to be characteristic of an old building and this would be true had it not been for the combination of other events.

Being Catholic by birth, a crucifix was hung in the baby’s room. C. went in to check on their child while M was in their living room, watching television, after checking on the baby, she noticed the crucifix had somehow slipped and was now hanging upside down. She and the baby joined M in the living room and C mentioned the crucifix, asking M to fix it. M thought this to be very strange because of the way the crucifix had been attached but went into the room to put it right side up. Upon entering the baby’s room however, he noticed a decided chill and adjusted the thermostat. He checked the crucifix and it appeared someone had taken the icon from the wall and deliberately re-hung it. After he had fixed the problem, he went back to the living room to ask C if she had tried to fix it and inadvertently left it upside down. C told him that she hadn’t touched it since he had hung it up there, some weeks prior. M. shrugged it off.

The next day, C took the baby to visit some friends and M stayed home, he had to go to work later on in the day. He decided to shower and then watch a bit of television; upon coming out of the shower, however, he noted the bathroom door was open, although he knew he had closed it, his clothing was hanging on the hook. This wasn’t the first time he had encountered problems with doors opening and closing, as mentioned earlier but this was the first time he felt any real unease.

When he had finished his grooming, he closed the bathroom door, tightly and made his way to the living room. All the doors down the hallway were closed. Those doors had been open when he decided to shower. Walking down the hallway, he re-opened the doors and started back to the living room. The bathroom door was now fully opened even though he had closed it.

C had mentioned to M that she had noticed things out of the corner of her eye but when turning to look, nothing would be there and she also told him that she felt like she was being watched. M was now experiencing that same feeling; that someone was watching him. He tried to shrug it off and sat down in his living room, his choice of chair faced the hallway as well as the television, as he was about to flip the t.v. on, his attention was drawn to the hallway and to his unpleasant surprise, he was witness to an opaque, dark, clearly defined shadow form walk past the door and disappear. He jumped up, of course, to investigate but there was nothing there. The hall was empty.

The following series of events made it very clear to the young couple that they were living in the wrong place and needed to re-locate, as soon as possible.

When M arrived home from work the following day, C told him that he would have to rehang the crucifix again as it had flipped upside down again. M. knew this wasn’t likely as he had secured the cross to the wall to ensure this wouldn’t happen again. He went toward the baby’s bedroom and as he was about to enter the room, he was first hit by a blast of cold, at the same time he saw a dark shadow that seemed to be leaning over his baby’s crib. He advanced toward the shadow and felt as if he was being pushed back; he lunged forward and the shadow disappeared, his son began to cry. He grabbed up B and as he fled the room, he noticed that the crucifix was, indeed, upside down, again.

Following that incident, C refused to stay in the apartment another night and with M’s help, they packed up the baby’s belongings and necessities; she went to stay with family while M prepared the little family for their move out.

The problems continued as M tried to pack their belongings. He would fill a box, only to find some of the objects out of the box and on the floor as soon as he turned his back. And the crucifix? He was finishing up the baby’s room when it flew off the wall and hitting the opposite wall.

Whatever was in the apartment remained there because once the little family moved out, they had no further problems.