Tonight is the night when all kinds of pranksters are out on the prowl. They cause mischief with harmless pranks , and have a good old time playing tricks. The tricks part has become the day before Halloween, and the treats part, the day of.

It is a great time for a ghost story. There are so many, and if you want to scare yourself silly ,I can give you a couple Stephen King book titles that should do it. (After reading Salem's Lot, my aunt bought a cross and wore it to bed each night for about 7 months).

Funny how we get religion when things go bad!

Anyway, the first house I lived in , was cool. No problem. At the age of 9 we moved into a genuine haunted house. Seriously. I wouldn't wish that house on any child. I was well aware of being psychic at that time, and all kinds of things happened in that house.

There was the ghost cat that walked only UP the stairs.(My Mom and I searched for him 3 times before we realized he wasn't "real").

The creaking floorboards in the attic, and the attic door that would sound like it was opening, when it really wasn't.

There were huge crashing noises every night, as if a bus drove though the house.

My closet door next to my bed would open every night after my Mom turned out the lights. You could count to 10, and the latch would CLICK, and the door open.

People "sitting" on the bed, pulling the bedcovers, and knocking things down in the room, while you tried to sleep.

Something that would rev up the window AC and make it make all kinds of noises and such that it never made during the day. And that it really never could or should make in reality.

There were times when we crept downstairs, sure the house was broken into , to find nothing.

Voices calling my name (that was THE absolutely scariest part to me). Loud clear, and irthful.

Cats staring at things that were not there.

...and the man and the woman.


The man scared the crap out of me. He was pure evil. Malevolent. He sat in a chair at the foot of my bed most times. Even people who could not see him, sure could feel him. The woman was in the attic, under the eaves, scared to death. Her fear would scare me, but after a while I started to realize that she was more afraid than I was.

I told my Mom, and she asked some neighbors about the history of the house. Apparently there was a man who built the house himself (we believe it because every window was a different size, my Mom HATED curtain shopping!). He was a nasty drunk, and he owned a bar downtown (this is in NJ). He beat his wife frequently, and one night he killed her at their bar.

She was still hiding from him in the attic, and he was still angry and afraid to cross.I am sure he was at least a little crazy.

They were there for years, and I think the crashing sounds were him in his anger. The items downstairs never actually moved, just sounded like they did, but the ones upstairs did move. It would scare the crap out of you at 2 AM. Was it a burgler, earthquake , the cats ,or the ghost?? I will say that 99% of the time, it was the ghosts.

We had a friend who did not believe in ghosts. Once while I was on a camping trip with the girl scouts, she slept in my bed. I couldn't wait to get home and hear the news (there were no cell phones in those days, we had to wait for news!). She was terrified. She swore to never sleep in my bed again, and said someone sat on the bed. It took her weeks to be alone in any room in the house. The closet door however, didn't open for her.

My great aunt moved in for a while. I told her about all these things that I just told you. She told me "Stop trying to scare me, you little brat." (She was an angry woman at the time). I told her I was trying to KEEP her from being scared.....Imagine an 11 year old trying to convince an older relitive of ghosts.... She finally shouted, "There are no such things as ghosts!" That is when every picture (I think there were 3 or 4) on the wall in that room fell to the floor.

She sat wide eyed, and I said, "Don't make them mad!"

She stayed about 3 weeks.

I had no idea what to do or say to these beings at that time. There were no Ghost Hunters, no good books, and just a handful of talented folks who would admit to being psychic and having answers. A friend of my Mom's told her to tell me, that I just needed to tell them to stop. To be firm about it. They were attracted to me (my first time being ghost bait). One night, I left my Barbie dolls on the foor. I could hear the stuff all moving around. I knew what the sounds were. I ignored it (something we learned to do after a while). More noises entered in. The AC started its' climb up and down the rev scale. Now it was not only scary, but annoying, after all I was trying to sleep, and it was as if there were a party going on in the room.I remembered the words of the lady my Mom spoke to and shouted...That is enough! Stop it! Don't ever do it again!

Total silence.

Wow! What a feeling! After years of being afriad, I now had POWER. They weren't going to mess with me anymore!

The man was still there, but he quieted down some, the lady stayed in the attic. There must have been a bunch of other mischievious folks running around, playing with Barbies and such. They left, never to be heard from again. Thank goodness.

Things still happened, like furniture vibrating and such for YEARS. I lived there 17 years, and there was always something going on in that house. At first it was every night, after me opening my mouth and yelling at them, instead of cowering under the sheets, things went down to once every couple of weeks. They would show off for guests though, (the first time my ex husband ate there, the china cabinet did a little dance for him), but things quieted way down. I still have the china cabinet......

They never did totally stop. I often wonder if the new owners had any problems, he was a minister, so I guess he can cope with it!

Things were good for a while, until I moved into a spookier place in NM. But that is a story for another day!

Have a great Halloween weekend!!!

Gina
Peshaui Wequashimese



(c)Triple Moon Goddess Gina, May not be used, copied or reproduced without prior written permission