Interview by Dave Juliano
I interviewed the owner of this haunted house located in southern New Jersey about 12 years ago. This is the story she told of some incidents in her house and others with her family. This house is on a quiet street in a small town.
It started in the early sixties , when Joan's brother Mike started dating a wild girl whom the family called Reds. One night out, Mike and Reds were joy riding around Philadelphia. Both of them were intoxicated. Reds kept telling Mike to drive faster and faster. His speed still did not satisfy she reached her foot over and stepped on the gas pedal, Mike lost control and slammed into a utility pole. Reds was killed in the crash and Mike was seriously injured. He was even unable to attend the funeral. He was ordered to remain at home in bed. When the family returned from the funeral they went up to Mike's room. As soon as they walked in the door Mike began to describe exactly what Reds was wearing in the coffin, down the rings and other jewelry. The family asked him how he knew all this since he wasn't there. He told them that Reds had just been there to visit him.
Years later Joan's son, Bobby, was supposed to ship out to Vietnam on the following morning. His Uncle Mike told him he would stop by in the morning to give him a lucky coin that would bring him good luck and protect him. His Uncle was very persistent about Bobby getting this coin. The next day, The whole family was there to see bobby off at the airport except for his Uncle Mike.. As they waited for him to arrive Bobby bought his 2 young sisters Raggy Ann dolls. His Uncle never showed up and Bobby had to leave without the lucky coin. When Joan arrived home her neighbors told her to put on the TV and watch the news. She turned on the TV and the scene was of her brother Mike laying dead in the street. He had been killed while attempting to rob a bank, he was trying to steal a coin collection.
One night while Bobby was on guard duty near the front lines, He saw a figure approaching him in the distance. He called out for the person to identify themselves. Bobby had never fired his gun at a person before and He was hesitating. The figure was even closer in an instant and he recognized it, it was his dead Uncle Mike. His Uncle told him to turn around and he spun around to be face to face with a North Vietnam soldier with his bayonet raised. He fired instantly killing the enemy soldier. He quickly turned around but his uncle was gone. Joan received many letters form men in Bobby platoon who told of mines not going off, shells veering off in opposite directions, etc. All of these occurred when Bobby's life was in danger. His uncle had failed to give him the lucky coin, so he was protecting him from beyond.
During the war the sisters had started sleeping in Bobby's room. This was the same room that Red's had visited years before. One night they both awoke to find the Raggy Ann dolls sitting up in bed laughing at them.
After the war Bobby went to work as a bus driver. On one late night run he got the feeling of his Uncle's presence just like in Viet Nam. He heard his Uncle say "turn around", he did and there was a man with a knife ready to stab him. He overpowered the man and called the police. Bobby still has times when his Uncle Mike appears to aid him.
The day before I conducted this interview Joan's grandchildren were over and were playing in the room that was once Mike and Bobby's room. They ran downstairs to Joan and her friend and claimed someone was watching them as they played. The women went upstairs to look. The room was very cold, but they found no intruder. The girls said they were being watched form the closet. Joan showed the girls there was nothing in the closet, she even stood inside to point this out. As she stood in the closet, she looked up and noticed a small hole in the ceiling above the closet door. She inspected the hole and found a box full of old clothes and things. Among them were the Raggy Ann dolls that had come alive years before.
For the skeptics among you, I met Joan through my Mother at our Church. She became a good friend of the family and later became our town's mayor. I also know Bobby, he was my football coach. Real people, real story.
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When I was about nine or ten, my mother, my sister and I, lived in an older two story brick house. We rented the bottom half and an older lady lived upstairs. The older lady moved out after awhile, to live with her daughter, so my mother rented the top half of the house too, so that my sister and I could each have our own rooms. My sister got what was the "living room" area of the upstairs apartment (it had once been a bedroom, and I got the actual bedroom. It was really pretty with floral wallpaper and everything, very feminine. Across the room from the door, there was another door which lead into a very smallish room, with slanted ceilings (it was in the "gable" of the house) and a very small window. Off of this little room, was a very little door that entered into a part of the attic.
I was pretty excited about the prospect of having my own room once again (we'd lived in many many houses, and most of the time, I had my own room, I was pretty used to it). I even moved my desk in the little room, which for some reason I named "the nursery" even though I was older than that doll age and there was little physical evidence of the room ever being used as such. It was always extremely cold in there and after a month, I moved my desk back. I was also extremely uneasy about having that door open, and I would even prop things up against it, because sometimes, even though it had a pretty good latch, it would open by itself in the middle of the night.
Then, I specifically remember one night, I woke up and thought my mother was in the room. My bed was situated so the door to the nursery was at the foot of my bed. Standing in front of the door, at my feet, was an adult shape, but it was all shadows. I think that I covered my head and tried to go back to sleep. Another time, when I was sick, I woke up and the shape was back. I got the distinct impression that I had called out to my mom in my head, and the figure was answering the call. I sat up a little bit, to see if it was shadows from the window or something, but the figure remained. Then I let out a bloody scream for my mom and the figure rushed across the room to the door leading into the hall. It passed directly through the light coming off of the street, and it was definately a solid black or shrouded figure. I got the impression that it was a sad lady. I never told my mom because I didn't think that she would believe me. Then, after a few more months, my mom moved us back downstairs because she could no longer afford the rent for the upstairs. We moved again after another year.
There were some other strange things about this house. There were definate hollow spots in the walls and strange noises came from them sometimes. Also, the basement had several different rooms, including a coal room and this strange meat locker type room. I got the distinct impression of evil that came from that room. Also, once I thought I saw a big grinning face in the dark where that door was.
The strange thing about this, which makes me think that it wasn't just a nine-year-old's active imagination (ok, well, the face may have been), is that about two years ago, I was talking with my mom about ghosts and faces that you see out of the corner of your eye. I kept saying "Haven't you ever done that? Thought you saw someone?" and she kept saying "No, never." After I let the subject drop, she brought it up again. She said "Actually, remember the brick house on Shawano? Remember when you girls were sleeping in that upstairs part? I went up there one day when you were in school to pick up dirty towels and I was standing by your closet, looking out the window when I just got this funny feeling. Then I thought I saw a woman standing there looking at me, but when I turned my head she was gone. It was over by that little cold room in the front of the house. Remember that room?"
I had never told her about the incident and, while I was growing up, we had lived in about fifteen different houses, so there was no reason for her to just pick that house at random.
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Last month, I had a 91 year old hospice patient, "Mr. M" who was dying of CHF. His wife had died 2 years ago, so he was alone. He had long since given up being able to care for his pet dog "Pepper", a small, rat-looking, yappy dog who was 16 (112 in dog years) herself. Pepper had to be taken away a few weeks ago so she could be taken care of by Mr. M's daughter, who lived 10 miles away.
I was called in to see Mr. M after he had declined to the point that his doctor had discharged Mr.M from the hospital to go home and be comfortable for his last few hours.
By this point, Mr. M was catamose, nonresponsive to family and obviously near the end. Only myself and Mr M's son-in-law were in the house. The rest of the family kept their vigil at their own houses, wating for my call.
All of a sudden, Mr. M opened his eyes and said " Come on Pepper", and died.
While not unexpected, the death was so quick and strange, we were kind of stunned. Not 2 minutes later, Mr M's daughter telephoned to tell us Pepper had died.
I have heard of things like this before, but this was my first experence. Has anyone else heard or experence similar deaths?
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MAYPORT NAVAL STATION, Fla. (AP) -- Ghosts are fine, traditional thingsto have around ancient English castles, but the Navy says rumors of one stalking the depths of the aircraft carrier USS Forrestal have spooked a few sailors. Flickering lights. Bumps in the night. Locked doors opening. Voices on disconnected telephones. And a vanishing figure in a khaki uniform. The figure's even got a nickname: George. At least that's what some of the men say aboard the Forrestal, in its fourth month of a six-month deployment in the Indian Ocean and the North Arabian Sea.
They were interviewed by Lt. James E. Brooks, who detailed the story of the ghost in a 12-page news release issued last month. The report about George hasn't ruffled any Navy feathers, Mayport Navy spokesman Lt. Park Balevre said Thursday. "I thought it was cute. I think most people did." "What Lt. Brooks had in mind was a fluff piece to show the lighter side of the Navy," said Balevre. But according to Brooks, some sailors don't think the ghost story is at all cute.
George lurks in two of the ship's below-the-waterline storage areas, one of them a former morgue, spooked sailors claim. "I've got one guy working for me now who refuses to go down there alone. Our last chief petty officer in charge, who has since transferred, refused to go down there at all," says Petty Officer Daniel Balboa, in charge of the officers' mess. "I've never seen any ghosts but you can hear weird things down there," said Balboa. "I was taking inventory one night and heard a noise like deck grating being picked up and dropped," he recalled. "I'd turn around and look but didn't see anything. When I turned around to begin my work again, the noise started again." One night, Balboa said, he was checking temperatures in food-storage freezers and kept finding open doors he had shut behind him. "It is impossible for anyone to open the reefer (refrigerator) doors from the outside, behind me. To open them from the outside requires a key since the doors lock automatically. "I had the only key with me. That incident puts me on the verge of believing," he said. Some say the ghost is a chief killed during a 1967 flight deck fire that killed 137 sailors in the Gulf of Tonkin off the coast of North Vietnam, Brooks wrote. Others guess he's a pilot whose body was once stored on the ship. Petty Officer James Hillard hasn't ventured into the haunted areas since he saw George last year while checking out odd footsteps. "He was wearing a khaki uniform, like an officer or chief would wear," he says. He followed the apparition into a compartment but "there was nobody in there, and I swear that is where he went," Hillard said. Mess Specialist 2nd Class Gary Weiss saw a khaki-clad ghost go down a ladder to pump room No. 1. Whoever went down into the pump room never came out and the ladder is the only access, he said. Hillard said he once was helping move supplies when a telephone that was reportedly disconnected kept ringing. "The phone rang and I answered it. This time there was a faint voice calling, `Help! Help! I'm on the sixth deck!' Rumor had it that a crew member was killed down there. I'm very scared to go down there alone. If I do, I get out of there as fast as I can," Hillard said. Others are dubious. "I think it's the guys' imagination," said Senior Chief Petty Officer James Williams. "I'm not superstitious but when I go down there by myself, I find it uneasy. When that happens, your imagination is going to play tricks on you."
Copyright, 1988. The Associated Press. All rights reserved.
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My parents recently bought a nice house on 180 acres. The house itself is not that old-built in the 1950s and sits up on top of a large hill surrounded by trees. Just recently, for no apparent reason, we've had a rash of strange happenings.
One day, while practicing her piano and becoming quite frustrated with a particular peice, my littlest sister, Monica, heard a voice behind her saying 'come on Monica, you can do it. Keep trying.' She turned around to see a frail old woman dressed in black sitting in a lounge chair. Monica screamed and got mom & dad but the lady was gone.
Not a week later, Monica was taking a shower in mom's bathroom when she happened to glance in the mirrior only to see the large face of this same woman staring at her. One of the reasons I believe that she wasn't' lying is because she ran screaming out of the bathroom, naked, into a gathering of my parents friends.
Over Thanksgiving, while saying grace at the dinner table, our china cabinets and everything in our dining room began to shake violently much to the dismay of our entire family.
During Christmas, we thought it would be fun to hypnotize Monica just for play. She started counting, then started skipping numbers and soon was actually in a different state. It wasn't 30 seconds later that she started screaming at the top of her lungs that 'She's going to kill me!!! She's got a knife!!! Oh my God!!!' When my dad finally woke her up, she could only remember a lady with red hair chasing her in our house with a knife.
The final blow was just recently. By final blow I mean it finally convinced those non-believers. My father has a favorite leather chair that he sits in day in and day out. It was in close proximity to a window which my mother opened for some air before a rain storm. Dad, worried about his chair getting wet, told mom not to open the window with his chair there or it will get ruined. The next morning, dad was up early for work and noticed that the den had been re-arranged so that his chair was no longer by the window but instead across the room. Dad left for work, thinking that all the kids did this the previous night. Mom woke up to the same thing and thought dad did it. It wasn't until dinner time that we discovered the room had been completely re-arranged (down to the magazine placements and table leaves) and not by human hands. We figured it was done between 10pm and 5 am in the morning. Not a sound was heard even though the kids' rooms are directly below the den and the den floor is hardwood. Mom and dad used to brush it off, but not anymore.
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When I was a little girl, I remember the long weekends I would spend at my grand parents house. One time, I was just about to fall asleep on the hide-a-bed in the living room when I noticed someone out of the corner of my eye. It looked like a man. I looked again and noticed it was a man. He turned and walked toward the hall and disapeared. Because I was half asleep, I shrugged it off to my sleepiness. A few years later, my mother and I were discussing paranormal experiences we had had and I told her about the man I saw at Grandma's. She just smiled at me and said, "That's the indian in Grandma's house. " I only saw him one other time. That time I paid closer attention to what I was seeing and he definately is an indian.
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I am a full believer in the paranormal and that I have lived a past life. The proof I have of my past life is this. My mother, sister and I all relocated to Pennsylvania for a couple of years due to my mother's job. While we were there we, of course, traveled around the state. We visited Gettysburg one year and Philadelphia the next. While we were in Gettysburg, touring around the graveyard, I came upon the grave on an unknown soldier. As I stood over the grave I felt this deep, deep saddness in my heart and I began to cry. I had not felt that at any other grave throughout the graveyard. It's been something I could not explain for years and at times it has really bothered me.
Recently, I was speaking with a woman who has the ability to see our angels and spirit guides around us. I was telling her of another experience, which happened in Philadelphia, when she mentioned that she just saw a civil war soldier standing beside me. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes, fully dressed in a grey uniform (deffinately southern,which I knew), holding a sword. While she was describing him to me I began to feel that saddness again but I also felt an extreme happiness, almost like being reunited with a past loved one. A few moments later she had his name; Edward.Together, we concluded that this soldier and I were lovers in my past life. I felt his presence and felt very safe and loved. Since this experience, he has been with me constantly, I have felt his presence.
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After my senior prom, my buddies and I dropped off our small-town-Tennessee dates and headed to another friend's house to unwind. The prom had been tough on all of us, we never chose the right dates, and we were watching MTV on the couch (this was '83 you know). After severe 2am boredom set in, one of my friends and I decided to go for a walk on the golf course behind the house and see if anyone else was up at this hour. We walked a short distance, really just from one fairway to the next, and looked with interest at this giant old tree next to the creek at the bottom of the hill. It was a dark clear night and my buddy Mike and I could make out something under the tree. I asked Mike what it looked like to him, and he agreed with me, that it looked like two people and one of them was digging. I thought it was someone up to no good, and the last thing I wanted to do on prom night was get busted by the cops, so I said we should leave. At this point Mike and I were about 300 yards away from the shadowy figures. We turned around and took about two steps before I looked back again. In that one second, the figures had gained about 1/3 of the distance between us, and were closing in fast. Mike and I both screamed profanities and high-tailed it for the house. I shouted "Don't look back!", because the people in the movies that get killed are the ones who look back, but I forgot to remind him of the little knee-high chain that keeps the golf carts from leaving the cart path. As he sprawled on the damp grass I jumped blindly, hoping I would miss the near-invisible chain. I made it, and helped him up, without looking back, and we made it safely inside.
Imagine if you were our third friend, of course you would have to go see it for yourself, so after a tall glass of water-we weren't into drinking beer yet-we took Kermit outside. After a short briefing, we went to the top of the same hill and let him go down to the scary part. After a few seconds, we heard that same four-letter word, and here came Kermit hustling up the hill. I was a little suprised that he was running so fast, he was a lot less chicken than we were, but there was no way anyone was going to beat me back to the house.
In retrospect, we should have done some scientific tests, or taken some pictures, but we were genuinely tired and creeped out. Mostly tired since we had been dancing all night to Rick Springfield cover tunes. So we went back to Kermit's house and crashed. This story was mostly told as a funny icebreaker at boring parties later on, and we never thought much about it as the years passed.
As a closing note, years later when my folks finally joined that country club and I played golf there, I saw the two headstones of the farmer and his wife(who used to own the land a long time ago) that are buried near the 6th tee about 300 yards from where we saw those "shadowy figures".
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My wife works at a residental care facility, and for the last month or so, they have been having trouble with the ghost of a lady, who died there about 5 years ago.
She was a very unhappy women, who didn't like anyone that worked in the complex. The only thing she seemed to enjoy was her pills. After her death there was no sign of a ghost, untill they expanded the complex.
Now they have problems every night, almost all of the employees have seen her around the medication room. They say she is very small about 5ft. tall, very solid looking with no hands or face. They have also seen her walk through a solid oak door. Some nights they say she just goes back and forth between the new section and the original building, what is most alarming though is that lately she is becoming violent. Most of the experiences are mild, pinching, pushing and such. However it has taken a serious turn, one of the night girls on wed. Jan 17,1996 had a very large fire extenguisher thrown at her, and was held captive in an elevator going up and down between floors for several minutes.
On the following thursday one the day gals reported that a large commercial refridgorator was rocking back and forth, like someone was trying to turn it over.
The owner of the facility has also seen her and is planning on bringing in a physic to tell her to move on.
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When I was little, about 5 years old, I had a cousin named Sharon. She was born with severe heart problems which caused her to undergo many heart surgeries. On what would have been her last surgery, she died. She was two. My mother was sleeping in our apartment, a few miles from the hospital, when she awoke to a strange sight. She saw Sharon running around our living room, waving, and saying, "Bye." Fearing the worst, my mom called the hospital and heard the grim news.
But that was only the beginning. One day, not too long after Sharon's death, my grandparent's arrived home to coat hanger's rattling and their bathroom sink running hot water full blast. They could find no reason for the coat hanger's rattling, and they swore that they turned off the water before they left. It was then that my grandmother remembered one of Sharon's favorite past times- playing with the water.
Not too long after this, my grandmother awoke one night to see a glowing ball floating in her bedroom. She later talked to a priest about this, and the priest told her that the ball represented an angel.
Also, last year my grandmother was home alone, cleaning house. She was walking past her kitchen china cabinet, which held a musical figurine of an angel, when the figurine started playing by itself. It was then that she remembered what day it was. It was the anniversary of Sharon's death.
My aunt and uncle have also reported seeing her, and my mother and grandmother have both had very vivid dreams about her. Even though she's been dead nearly twenty years now, we still feel that she is with us, somehow. My family feels very lucky to have our own guardian angel. My cousin Sharon.
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We own this farm house. It's haunted by a ghost named Catherine. The reason we know that the ghost's name is Catherine is because one day this lady stopped by and asked if she could see the house. We wanted to know why she wanted to see the house and she told us that her father and grandfather built the house in 1900. Her grandmother, Catherine, loved the house. Catherine and her husband had to move she didn't want to move because she loved the house and, while she was away she died. I guess her spirit came back to the house. Let me tell you why I believe this.
When we first bought the house, my Uncle Pat was living there. He would sleep in the living room of the house and during the night he would hear doors shut and no one else was in the house.Plus this happened more than one time. Then we rented the house to some people. We never told them about the doors shutting. These people that we were renting the house asked us if the house was haunted because they could hear someone walk across the attic floor, slam a door, walk back across the floor and slam another door. There are no doors up in the attic. When the renters moved out, my grandma and grandpa moved into the house. They said that they didn't hear anything. My Uncle Pat would sometimes come and visit them and stay in the guest bedroom, which we believe was Catherine's bedroom, all night long he would hear something tapping on the window. There is nothing close enough to even touch the window. Also Catherine has stared at my Uncle Pat and even called his name. One thing that freaks me out is that on New Year's day I had a dream and in this dream Catherine told me why she kept my Uncle Pat up at night. The day after I told my Uncle Pat this, he heard someone call his name and everyone else in the house was sound asleep. I know that some of this is hard to believe, but its all true.
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This story was told to me by my friend Jone.
Jone and I live in the small town of Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. It is located about 90 miles east of the Twin cities. one Evening, Jone drove to Minneapolis to pick up her daughter who was attending school there. On the return trip Jone let her daughter drive and they both conversed about school and other events in their lives. It was approximately 10:00 at night and small pockets of fog banks began to develop on the highway. Jone turned from looking at her daughter and yelled at her to slow down and avoid what looked to be a motorcyclist. She recalled seeing a leather jacket and various details of the bike. But she vividly remembers how the headlights reflected off the chrome of the bike yet it went through it at the same time. The motorcyclist was in front of their vehicle for about five seconds and then drove off into the ditch. Jone's daughter pulled over to the side of the road and the both looked at each other and verified what they both had witnessed. Spooked out of their minds they sped for home. They were traveling on Highway 29 which links I94 to Green Bay. Currently HY29 is being expanded to a four lane highway due to the many fatal accidents that have occured in the past.
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When I was a very young child my parents rented an old german house. What made renting this house strange is that German families rarely rent out an entire house, especially to American servicemen and there families. The house is in three levels: the first floor, second floor, and the attic. The house was full of antique furniture. The service couple before us had moved out when there six month old baby died of crip death. So here we arrive. My stepfather, my mother, and me 4 years old. The people that moved in upstairs were ( not disrespect intended) very lowclass people. The wife's name was Cookie, there were two boys, and the father (whose name and face I can not remember).
One day Cookie and my mother, bored in the german countryside and still no furniture to unpack, decided to explore the attic and its treasures. In a very old dresser my mother found one drawer filled with family photographs going all the way back to the turn of the century. Her and Cookie felt amazed at the certainly important heirlooms left in the house by its owners the Hommels. In the next dawer my mother found many crucifixs (excuse my spelling please), in many shapes and sizes. " They were gorgeous works of art", my mother,"They came in many sizes and different wood." The strange thing about them was that they had deathsheads at the bottom of Jesus's feet. (Deathsheads are the sign of the SS)
The next day Cookie and my mother began looking to make a playground in the barn for us kids to play in. They found a well like concrete hole in the middle of the barn. Inscribed in the concrete were the words,"Rommel, 1943" and a swatzika. What made this strange and even more scarry was that in the courtyard was inscribed that the house belonged originally to the Schmit family. My mother never allowed us to play in that concrete well.
Soon after we all moved in my mother and stepfather began hearing loud noises from upstairs, as if the furniture were being moved around. My mother thought that Cookie and her husband were trying to entertain us. With the noises the crucifix's began appearing all ovet the house. You would open a drawer and there it would be, you open a closet door and one would be hanging there. When my mother and Cookie were going to put them back all the crucifix's would be moved to a different drawer!
My memory and only memory of this time is when Cookie's sons tried to scare me by taking me up in the attic and throwing dead mice on me. I heard them screaming as if someone where beating them. When they ran down the stairs, I just had to see what scared them so. I saw a little girl sitting on one of the ancient cedar chest, she was very thin with little hair and very large brown eyes, giggling. Ever since she was my imaginary friend.
But the winds of change came. Cookies husband was arrested for molesting me in the attic, an event that I can no longer recall. The accusations were very ugly and I am glad that I do not remeber. But the German police would not let him be tried by an American system and arrested him under German Law. Cookie and her sons were moved out that day in "Fear for Life"move, for she was the one that turned him in. My parents and myself were being move two days later in "Fear of Life" move. It was those two days when my mother knew that Cookie wasnt the one moving the furniture in the attic, and wasn't telling Ghost stories to amuse us, but was telling the truth.
It all happened so fast that Our furniture had arived yes, but we never opened a box. When we finally got to our new home and opened the last moving box, at the very bottom of the box was one of the most beatiful of the crosses, except for the out of place deathshead. My stepfather took it and threw it away in a field two hours of a drive away.
What about the Hommels? They were such nice people my mother said. She didn't want to ask about the antiques and family heirlooms. She fiqured There was a family member that they did not want to mention. What about the Crosses? My mother found out that The Crosses were strange but the deathshead was a sign of the SS. My mother also found out that there was a fairly unknown concentration camp near by. Is it possible that the house was commandered by an SS officer from a jewish family? What about the Children? Of the four children living in the house in three months one died, one was raped, and two were subject to the harsh dicipline of a father that seemed to change in that house. What about the giggling girl? She stayed with me I remember. Until I recieve a fractured skull from a wild horse. On the way to the hospital I remember she said she had to leave me. I cried more from her saying goodbye than I did the 240 stiches I recieved. But If the horse had kicked me an inch lower it would have broke my neck, an inch higher I would have been blind for life. Was she my good luck charm? Was she a daughter in the Schmit family long dead? Who knows?
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My family is prone to "paranormal" stuff, and I seem to be no exception. I have quite a few experiences to relate, both personal and heard second-hand through my family. This is usually the first one I tell people:
I served as an officer in the navy onboard a cruiser. One night, while we were in port, I was awoken from my sleep by a "feeling." What I saw hovering before me was a semi-distinguishable face, but better described a nebulous form. What I remember most was the sound which filled my ears: not loud, not soft, very present, but nothing specific. The only way I've been able to describe it is that sound the transporters made in the old Star Trek, but at a constant pitch and kind of muffled. I could feel myself trying to speak, yet could not hear words out of my mouth. I could feel myself trying to move, but again, nothing was happening. The apparition floated above me for what must have been 10 to 15 seconds, then suddenly disappeared. The sound was gone, I could move, I could hear myself speak, and the rest of my stateroom came back into focus. The first thing I did was reach up and touch the pipes which ran through the overhead (my rack was the top rack, or bunk-bed, for ye lubbers) to make sure I wasn't dreaming, for it felt like a dream-state. I had two choices: believe it was a dream, or believe it was something else. I didn't make the conclusion right away. Later that night, I had the mid-watch (from midnight to 4 am) on the quarterdeck. Once the drunks are on-board, this can be a very boring watch. Two other people are up there with you: the Petty Officer of the Watch, and the Messenger. Discussion always varies, and that night, it turned to ghost stories. We swapped a couple, and my mind thought back to the incident earlier in my stateroom. I shared it with them, with no real conclusion, because I had not made one yet. That's when I noticed the pale look on the Petty Officer of the Watch's face.
A year or so ago, on the deployment before my arrival, a young petty officer was doing maintenance on a radar system. He had defeated the safety interlock (a big no-no) on the radar's cabinet, exposing a fully energized klystron (something with lots of power going through it). He was wearing a sound-powered phone set, which is comprised of a head-set, and a mouth-piece which rests on a metal plate which rests on your chest, suspended by a a cord, and rests on your chest. This young man (could not have been over 21) got too close to the klystron, an high-voltage arc of electricity leapt from the klystron and landed on the metal plate, killing him instantly. The spot where he died was two decks above my stateroom, almost directly above where my rack (bed) is.
The petty officer of the watch had the messenger retrieve a cruise book from that deployment (like a yearbook). The first page was a memorial to the petty officer who died, complete with his picture. It was his face I could barely make-out in my stateroom. We all just stood there. I didn't say a thing (outside of what I had to say for duties) for the rest of the watch, I just stared out into the night.
Given my belief in these matters, I figgured he (the "ghost") was trying to tell me something. Typically, they all are. He woke me up only one other time after the first time. I tried to speak to him, but the same thing that happened to me physically during the first encounter impaired any communication. The ship has since been de-commissioned. I only hope he had the opportunity to tell whatever it is he wanted to say to someone else.
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