posted on Mar, 7 2013 @ 10:09 AM
Pretty bold to be asserting there are no such thing as ghosts. "Ghosts" are supposed to be people that have died and then are "glimpsed" by
the still living, right? Unless you have died and returned to tell us there aren't any such thing... oh wait people have died and returned to tell us
such things. Well lets see, how can you assert there are no such thing as spirits if you haven't died yet ? Literally.
Pretty arrogant. Imagine going back in time before telescopes and trying to convince everyone who ever lived that all the astronomy we know today
exists? You'd be a laughing stock.
For ghostly phenomenon to begin to be credible there must be some kind of corroboration to back up any "stories" about encounters. By that I mean,
Let me explain with an example of a personal nature.
In a previous life, I used to manage a house where I was in charge of renting rooms, maintenance, etc. I lived there for 8 years and placed ads in the
local newspaper, rooms for rent. These people that moved in were from all walks of life, none of them knew each other and surely had no reason to
conspire or make up the same story over and over.
The reports I got of a stranger in the house shuffling around in the kitchen (when nobody else was home) unnerved some so much that they suddenly
moved, making my life miserable for having to re rent the rooms for the high turnover rate. Each would in turn give me accounts of somebody in the
house, late at night or when they were alone, that would scare the crap out of them. One tenant told me he was tired of the "old woman who shakes him
awake in the middle of the night and tells him, "You have to leave, you have to get out of here", as though it was a regular occurrence. He didn't
seem disturbed by it too much, just told me one day out of the blue.
Another tenant who had a wife and daughter slept in the master bedroom (off the kitchen). Their first night, they all heard the footsteps. It
unnerved the man so much he got his shotgun out and searched the house. Others would ask me if I came home from work during the day because they could
have sworn that someone was in the house. I hadn't. They would get mad and accuse me of lying, then give notice. Some didn't bother to give notice
or say anything, they just left-- voiding their last month deposit.
You see, during all those years I never put two and two together until my very last day there. The owner passed away and the house was to be
put up for sale. Everyone had moved out except me and I was leaving the next day. As I lay down to sleep in the master bedroom (off the kitchen), I
heard it, plain as day...
Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle, pause... shuffle shuffle, pause... someone was in the kitchen just on the other side of the wall! Shuffle, shuffle,
shuffle... it went on long enough for me to determine I wasn't hearing things, and the usual blink, blink, scratch your head make-sure-you-are-awake.
The sounds were still there. They were quite distinct. I was not hungover, PTSD'd, or wishfully hoping to hear anything.
I had not until now given much merit to the stories I had heard over the years from complete strangers whom I did not know, nor they each other. I
dismissed them like anyone would. There is this auto denial magic most people practice whenever they need to continue on despite the growing
"evidence". Me included.
The next day as I was cleaning out my stuff I saw the old coot living next door watering his backyard. He had lived there longer than I and I asked
him if he knew who lived there before me. He said, yah some lady bought the house when it was knew and lived there until she died in the house... of a
heart attack... in the kitchen. They found her when nobody saw her for a few days and opened up the house to look for her.
"That place is haunted you know", he says to me, looking me dead in the eye. I'll never forget it. What an epoch in my life. I still get a little
chill typing this.
One thing. I went back a few months later to look at the house and some guy was outside in the yard, so I stopped and asked him if he thought anything
weird was going on there. He said no. I told him about the lady that lived (and died) there and the shuffling in the kitchen. You know, not to worry
if he ever heard anything like that, she's just come back to make breakfast and die one more time (I didn't say that).
I never got the chance. As I began to tell him not to worry if he ever did hear foot steps late at night in the kitchen, not to worry about... his
eyes got bigger and he looked at me like I was crazy. Without saying a word, he turned and walked away, closing the front door behind him.
I felt better having embarrassed myself , better that I at least told him (and he heard it too). That way he doesn't have to go through the same
adventure I did. When it happens to him he will remember our conversation. I wonder if he heard the "don't worry about it" part?