Tuesday, January 31, 2023
Dreams 1/31
Three Witches Magic Shoppe: I
Three Witches Magic Shoppe: Chapters 1-5
Three Witches Magic Shoppe
By, Dana Lee
Dedicated to my Best Witches
***
One
Suzie Blue Witch had purchased a special sort of spell from Happy Laveau, the Voodoo doll, for Red Witch's birthday. Nobody could guess Red Witch's age, but Suzie Blue and she were the same age. Suzie Blue was Red Witch's mother in a past life. She and the witch doctor, Uncle Phil, had eight children, but Red Witch was Suzie Blue's favorite. The little Purple Witch was younger, but their birthdays were all hexactly a week apart, making Red Witch the oldest. Being all Aries witches they got-on very well and never fought amongst themselves. That is not to say that they got along with everybody else; however, afterall, they were witches. Suzie Blue Witch was, by far, the best witch of the three, very kind and saintly. She was a hexcellent seamstress and photographer. She was also the most mannerly and well travelled of the trio. The Red Witch was somewhere in between. Her mother was a Halloween witch who had gone to The Great Beyond and said that when The Red Witch was good, she was very good, but when she was bad, she was worse. Red Witch was also, by far, the craftiest and witchiest of the three: painting, writing stories, and making dolls, (in no particular order). The Red Witch was a very chaotic sort of witch. Now, that little Purple Witch, she was the worst witch, but The Red Witch loved her all the more for it and wouldn't have her any other way. In defense of Purple Witch, her Moon was in Gemini, so it's not like she could help herself. But, back to Red Witch's birthday spell that Suzie Blue Witch so graciously bestowed upon her. It was a wonderful French Quarter Creole cottage, or at least, nearly everything that The Red Witch needed to make it so. She just needed a month, some wine, lots of varnish, paint, good glue, and some magic to make it The Three Witches Magic Shoppe. It was a lovely shade of lilac and baby blue. The shingles were missing, so those witches had to wait until summer for a new roof, but they had one before their Halloween Gala and so many merry adventures, besides... But, that's what this book is all about...
Two
Yes, the Halloween Gala Grand Opening went off like a bang. All of the neighbors showed-up: Witchy Pie Poo, also known as Mother Rigby, Dainty Bette, Damiana, Posey Parker, Zelda, Thorin, the dwarf, Cherry Pie Clown, Feathertop, the scarecrow, and Vlad, the vampire. There were games, candy, and trick-or-treaters. Suzie Blue was supposed to supply Vlad with a supply of trick-or-treaters, but she is too soft hearted and did not. It might be mentioned that Vlad is a prince and makes all three witches giddy as if they'd eaten too much sugar. So, when Dainty Bette had offered Vlad a cup of cider, he ate her, instead. Then, Bette became a vampire, herself, and would continue to be a bane to the witches for many moons to come. However, the real problems did not begin until Thanksgiving. The witches were very thankful, and once again, invited all of their friends and neighbors to dinner. Feathertop was talking politics, 'witch you should never do at a friendly dinner. Worse, Red Witch had befriended Tom, the turkey, and refused to serve him for dinner, no matter how the little Purple Witch pleaded, saying there were plenty of cakes and magic mushrooms for the guests to eat. Vlad tried to hold-out, but Zelda, in the garden, beneath the moonlight, was just too much of a temptation, and he ate her right up.
Three
Yuletide in The Magic Shoppe was full of cheer. Red Witch made some magic cookies, and Purple Witch ate far too many for one sitting, nestled herself into the cozy little window box, off of the warm breakfast nook, and fell into a magical winter's nap. She was awoken by one of Santa's reindeer, who led her to a magical sleigh, and they sped up and off through the starry night. While hovering high in the sky Purple Witch at last spotted Santa, stuck high atop The Keep. The Keep is an ancient tower where Witchy Poo and Damiana live. It is supposed that Witchy Poo stole the child, Damiana, from her parents, Scully and Mulder, but not true, for she is a very odd one and wandered off with the green witch willingly. Anyways, Santa seemed to be stranded up there and gratefully popped onto the magic sleigh led by the little reindeer. When they at last landed Purple Witch was greeted by two very angry and naked gingerbread. Their house was in shambles and looked as if a cyclone had hit it. "Who is going to pay for this?" The gingerbread lady wanted to know. Beneath the wreckage slept an elf. "Oh! Jangle Jiminy! There you are!" Santa said. "Is he okay?" Purple Witch wondered. "What happened, Santa?" "Oh! I suppose we had too much space cake for flying!" "Well!" Purple Witch was not surprised, but was shocked to find Little Ron huddled beneath a juniper, clutching a little lamb. "Little Ron! What are you doing in my sugar induced dream?" "Purple Witch! It's no dream! I'm saving this little lamb from Caligula!" "Oh! Well then, hop on the magic sleigh, and we will give the both of you a lift back to The Magic Shoppe. You will be safe with us." Well, Purple Witch had a weakness for warlocks, especially Italian ones, like Little Ron. "Is that succubus, The Red Witch, there?" "Why, yes." The Purple Witch had been trying to conjure up a warlock for quite some time. The Red Witch was not fond of The Purple Witch's choices in men. She thought her ex was a baby, and had emptied Isis's litter in his mailbox: special delivery. Little Ron was afraid, but it was cold beneath the juniper, so he bravely climbed on the sleigh with the bleeting lamb, and off they flew, back to The Magic Shoppe.
Four
Warlocks always spell trouble, and Little Ron was no different. First, he got Suzie Blue fired from her job at the paper. She was so hexcited, all she wrote about was Little Ron ManHorn this, and Little Ron, that, so much that even puppies refused to use the paper. Next, he got little Purple Witch's son, Master Thomas, expelled from Magic School. They were like, so sorry, but we cannot be associated with the likes of Little Ron and his dark magic in any way. Finally, Dainty Bette set Red Witch's dolls ablaze. She claimed, Little Ron made her do it. Well, enough was enough, and Blue Witch and Red Witch certainly could not put up with it. Too bad Purple Witch still thought Little Ron was just great. Then, Suzie Blue became sick of him and had to be tended round the clock by a team of doctors: Ron Paul, Plague Doctor, and little Doctor Strange. The witches certainly had to find a cure for Little Ron. The Red Witch and little Purple Witch set off in the snow to find a cure when they had a sledding accident, and Red Witch hurt her head, particularly her ear. Since the doctors were already there, tending to Suzie Blue, Ron Paul had a look at her. He said her ear was fine but that her plague had returned. Well, Red Witch had recovered from the plague before. She had caught it off of dirty warlocks at the haunted school where she used to work. No way Red Witch could deal with the plague all over again! She flew up on the roof of The Magic Shoppe, told the ghosts up there, Tony and Heidi, that she was coming to join them, wished she had never been born, then dove right off, hat first.
Five
Lucky for The Red Witch an old Kewp happened to be passing by just as she jumped. He caught her just before she hit the ground and spirited her away. "Who are you? Am I dead?" "Well, I'm trying to earn my wings, so I'm going to show you what things would be like if you had never been born." "Oh, great. I'm cursed for killing myself. I might have known." First the Kewp stopped off at The Keep. Red Witch heard the screaming right away. "What's that?" "Remember, Red Witch, you were never born. We are going to see how The Purple Witch has gotten on without you. She won't be able to see me, and she will not know you." "Who the hell are you, and what the hell do you want?" Purple Witch wanted to know. There were three screaming children in the kitchen, two babies and a little blonde girl. Red Witch could hear at least another child holler from upstairs. "Mum, I need fifty dollars!" "Purple Witch, you know me, I'm your best friend." "Well, if you're my friend, watch these children for me. My back is killing me." Just then, somebody was at the door. Purple Witch opened it, warily. "What the hell do you want?" "Purple Witch?" "Yes." "I'm Little Pearl, the children's' teacher. They haven't been in school. And, when they are, they are dirty, cuss, and beat-up the other children." "Get the hell out of here before I sic them on you! Go on, get!" "I'll be back." A frog faced slob then entered the kitchen followed by Dainty Bette. "Where the hell have you been, and who the hell is this?" "I've come to collect my things. This is Bette, I'm leaving you for her as she turns me on." Just then, Purple Witch flew at the slob. "Have you seen enough?" Kewp asked The Red Witch. "I sure have. Let's get the hell out of here." And, they did.
Next, The Red Witch found that they were standing in line at a busy bank. There were lots of dolls crying and begging Suzie Blue Witch for a loan. "I don't know what to tell you. It's not like I have any money to give you!" "Remember, Red Witch," Kewp whispered, "you've never been born. There is no magic, nor Magic Shoppe." Still, Red Witch pushed her way through the miserable line. "Suzie Blue!" "Get back in line," Suzie snapped. Then, a distinguished Asian doll came up behind The Blue Witch and said, "Honorable Suzie Blue?" "Yes." "Oh, I buy your bank, and we no longer require your services, so good day!" "Well," said Suzie, "at least I still have Uncle Phil." "Who? The witch doctor? No, I buy his hospital too. We will now be practising acupuncture, there. But, I tell you what: you stop in. We will give you one sticking at half off regular price." At this, the Kewp grabbed The Red Witch by the arm, and they flew away.
Then, they were facing a little snow covered cottage. When they popped in they saw Witchy Poo reclining in bed with a glass of wine and a giant box of bonbons. She was watching soap operas and surrounded by unkempt children. One of them reached for a bonbon, but she slapped his fingers. Then, Little Ron came in the door and stamped the snow off of his boots. He looked thin and tired. "Hello, my love. What's for dinner?" "Where are you taking me?" Witchy Poo wanted to know. There was a little blonde girl sitting at the table, and Little Ron was looking her up and down. "Who is this?" "Well, now, " said Witchy Poo, "this is Damiana, and I've taken her in since your children are too ugly to beat." "Where is Little Ronnie?" Little Ron wondered. "He's up on the roof, sweeping the chimney. Have you finished shovelling the snow?" "Yes." "Did you shovel the sidewalks at The Old House?" "That's not my property. Willie can do that." "Oh, no!" Witchy Poo was really mad, now. "Put those boots back on. I have two children coming from New Zealand. They are not used to snow. If it is good enough for Madonna and Angelina, it is good enough for me! Now, get back to work! Damiana, here, needs new shoes and a new winter coat." The children, or were they trolls, started whimpering. "That one- that child isn't even mine," complained Little Ron. Well, that was quite enough for Witchy Poo, and she flew at him, beating him with a stick. Little Ron covered his head. "I just wanted to watch football," he said. "I outlawed football along with Alex Jones months ago!" Witchy Poo was really screaming, now. "Well," the Kewp asked, "do you still wish you'd never been born?" "Oh!", The Red Witch exclaimed, "I guess, the plague is not so bad. Can you take me back to The Magic Shoppe?" Just then, they heard a crystalline sound, like the tinkling of a bell. "What's that?" "Oh, Red Witch!" Kewp cried and turned around. "Look! I've earned my wings!" And, it was true, as Red Witch could see two tiny blue wings sprouting from the Kewp's back. He swept her up, and off they flew, back to The Magic Shoppe. "I love you, angel!" "I love you too, Red Witch!"
Monday, January 30, 2023
Dreams 1/30
Dreamt I was back in college living in a little wooden cottage with Ron and another roommate. We went to the mall and somehow I got separated. It's kind of my thing, getting lost, especially in dreams. A tall sandy haired guy in a big green ARMY coat was helping me. He wanted my number. I set my big pink shopping bag, lined with green tissue paper down, and it tore down the side. I also had some sort of silver metal new tool, still in the plastic packaging, which wasn't in my bag. It looked like part of an interior fawcett or maybe a plumber's tool, but likely the part. In the meantime a man and a woman with short dark hair were trying to loot through my shopping on the mall floor. They were both in winter coats. I chased them off. Anyways, I told him I was giving him my parents' number as I was always hard to get ahold of. I was copying down my very long email address when I woke.
Sunday, January 29, 2023
My Rebels
Speaking of trees, planted these darlings from berries I'd gotten from Perryville Battlefield. That was some time ago, maybe thirteen years. Perry is blue, and Ken is green. Ron had saved them one year when they were still quite small and buried in the snow. They're junipers, and I now realize the neighboring golf course is loaded with them, so they obviously like the area. Other trees I'd planted from seeds in the past that took were hazel and maple. I have no luck with fruit trees, but I keep trying.
Petra's Garlic & Norfolk Trolltree
Saturday, January 28, 2023
Us & Floyd 1/28 Mauch Chunk
Friday, January 27, 2023
The Gathering Gloom & Caligula Blushed 1/27 Mauch Chunk
Fred Astaire
Thursday, January 26, 2023
Wednesday, January 25, 2023
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Curses & Hexes
I curse and hex you, you stupid boy.
Disheartenment, cheerlessness, and gloom!
No more joy!
First, for you, a plague of warts!
Try to take me to court.
Next, you get a kidney stone!
How you will moan!
Then, you'll lose your lousy job!
Slob!
Curses and hexes to anybody who likes you!
I know, they're very few!
Sued for alimony?
Don't blame me.
You have such bad taste.
You'll believe your entire life has been a waste,
because it has!
You made me so mad.
A Mexican prison is waiting, oh,
and a big cellmate named, Nino!
When you get out, you'll be sore!
You'll hobble on home, to see it's no more!
When I'm done you'll wish you were never born.
I send no love to you, only scorn.
Dreams 1/25
Dreamt my friend, Amber, and I were young and at my parents' house. First, we were upstairs going through books. She had picked-out a few Dr. Seuss's, and I gave them to her. Then, we went down to the kitchen for some red wine. The glasses were not in the spirits cupboard above the stove, rather in the drink one next to the sink. I gave Amber the first glass, which wasn't a problem as it was an ordinary wine glass. There were some others that shouldn't be there. I was thinking they were Mummy's. They were tall, red and white, and looked like cut crystal but they were only cheap plastic. Their stems screwed on, and they leaked, so I made a real mess trying to pour myself a glass. Finally I got some wine too and sat down on Amber's right side. She said she had a lot of Dr. Seuss books.
Monday, January 23, 2023
Ghost Stories XXII
The following story has occurred over the past several months; in fact, the first siting should have been included in my last installment, only I forgot. It seems to me that this ghost does not want to be forgotten, so I've decided to get on this, even though I've been busy with other things.
We live across the street from a Romanian church, the mass is still given in Romanian. The building itself, I've been told, used to be a barn, so you may imagine that my Catholic friends laugh at this church, but I've always thought it rather charming. I've never been inside, but I walk Shiner around the grounds often.
This story actually begins with a funeral. Several months ago Ron was away on business when I noticed that somebody must have died. I knew it wasn't a typical funeral either, for although the parking lot is expansive, the cars were parked all the way up the entire street. I also saw for sure it was a funeral, as the mourners were all dressed in black. By the looks of the crowds, I only assumed it must have been the priest that died. If not he, I figured it must have been either somebody young or rather very important.
A couple of days later I was walking Shiner when on the very far perimeter of the church property, by what I refer to as the candy house, for its dark and multicolored brick, we walked right up to the shape of a person in a cloud. I've never encountered a ghost quite like this before. It certainly was a puffy cumulus cloud, in the very shape of a person, taller than me. We were right along side of it. It lingered for a few moments then just vanished. It did not slowly dissipate; it was there one moment, gone the next. At the same time, I thought, once again, that it was the priest. I'm not sure why, but since this ghost has been making himself known, I've only just come to the conclusion that what you think at the very instance of encounter about a ghost, is probably correct. This might even be how they make themselves known to you, unless of course, they are tricksters. This ghost, however, is not.
A few nights ago, and several months after this first siting, I was, once again, out with Shiner, only this time, by the church mail box. First, I heard something. I thought I heard somebody walking right near us. Then, I heard something that sounded like great wings, taking off, only this sounded a bit more distant. I thought it could be a big owl, as it was very late, or rather, very early in the morning. But then, I saw him, very quickly, only for an instant, but this time in full color. Shiner seemed to sense something too. He was right by the mail box and was nearly solid, but gone in a flash. I also thought it interesting, if not relevant, that that mail box number is 411, but with the flag down, blocking the 4, it became 111. I only noticed this, just then, as 111 is the number of The Holy Spirit. I also wondered if this was perhaps the priest popping in on Shiner. Shiner always perched in his window and barked at the church goers, but had since recovered from major surgery. He also had his staples removed on 1-11. 111 is also known as the number of completion. Remember, all this time, I did not know that the priest had actually died, it was just a hunch. But, afterwards, I came in and told Ron about what I had seen, and he told me that, yes, indeed, their priest had died.
Since Shiner's surgery, I no longer smoke in the house, as he had a lung removed. Only just tonight, (this morning...), I was out front smoking when I could see a dark shadow in the shape of a person flitting across the church parking lot again. So, I figured that he wanted me to tell you about him. I think he's a very nice ghost, probably the least creepy ghost that I've ever come across.
Ghost Stories XXI
First, the day of the earthquake: I felt the earthquake; it rattled the kitchen cupboards and dishes. I actually went outside. Later, that same afternoon, I was out in the garden, when I came back in the house, the ghost was standing in the foyer. At first, I thought in was Ron again, like before, that's how real he looked, only Ron was not home yet. I can never be sure if these ghosts are father or son, as maybe, the father appears as he was when he was younger sometimes. I say that, as I believe this was the father, the one who built the house, but they both come around from time to time.
Then, Gettysburg: several things have happened in Gettysburg, the last couple of trips. First, I had my new video camera, and was recording around the old cyclorama. Ron was there, and so was my Witch. It was creepy. It smelled so bad, like death. The wind was howling, and it was summer time. I actually thought I'd get an earache; it was so cold. I was sure my camera was going to pick up on all sorts of creepy things, but nothing recorded. I was there again, in October. Just after getting there, on a very warm and sunny day, I had to get my jacket out of the car, as I was experiencing some dreadful cold spells. Then, on to The National Cemetery, as it's always my first stop. There are a lot of ghosts that live there. I think some of them are Rebels in unmarked graves, as they didn't bury The Rebels. Anyways, Ron had said something to me that irked me. Then, (and, this is where it's actually pretty funny), I heard a very loud, rude noise. Assuming it was Ron, I decided not to say anything about it, since we were in the cemetery, out of respect. Only later, when I confronted him with it, he swore it wasn't him. So, I think it must have been directed at him. I do. Some of those ghosts have gotten used to me visiting them there. That same day, Ron was ascending the look-out tower with my camera, while I was down in the woods, on Culp's Hill. Culp's Hill is frighteningly haunted, especially at night. I was first hearing movement and whistling in the surrounding shrubs, and it wasn't birds. Then, I looked up, into the clearing, trying to see who might be making the noise. There was a dark figure, all browns, raggedy, feature-less, looking back at me. I couldn't see the bottom of his legs either. Then, he vanished.
I got all sorts of creepy pictures in Hamburg. Ron says it's all my camera, and the lights, but I don't think that explains them, when a few of the pictures are fine, and my camera, fully charged, all-out-and-died when we reached the bridge. And, the camera works fine again, now. Anyways, we had eaten at the old hotel at the crossroads at Hex Street before. I knew it was haunted then. In Hamburg, Hex Street leads to Witches Hill, where the witches dance naked with the devil. Not me, of course. But, I did see a ghost on the bridge. It was just a very dark figure, not very tall. I could sense it as well as seeing it. But, I really have no idea where some of the crazy pictures come from. You can check out these videos on my You Tube channel.
There is also a ghost kitten behind the house. I've seen and heard her, mewing. She is a little calico, maybe four months old. She makes me very sad. I've seen her during the day, but she cries at night. I've gone out calling at night for her, but she's not there.
Finally, just today, I saw another ghost car, which is what got me to writing down the stories. It was a fifties style hearse with a chrome grille, bumper, and mirrors. It was following behind the fire truck, which had the sirens wailing. Then, it vanished. That's how I know it was a ghost car.
1 / 3
Ghost Stories XX
These next couple of stories have happened over the last couple of months. The ghosts seem rampant lately. First, I was driving the same road as always; I happen to be on this road at least once a week. It is a rather dangerous intersection, but I've never noticed anything strange about it, except for this one instance. I was waiting behind several other cars when I saw a gold sedan coming from the other lane right at me. There was nowhere to go, and I was certain that the car was going to drive right into me. This all happened very fast, as accidents do. I didn't notice anybody in the car. Then, the car just vanished. It was as if it disappeared right into my car. It seemed very real and solid, as if it was really there. It couldn't have gone anywhere else. Looking all around, the car was just gone. I suppose it was a ghost car. I don't know what else it could have been.
Next, I was waiting for somebody in the parking lot of their bank. This wasn't my bank. As I was waiting there a beige car drove up to go through the drive through. I thought it was pretty weird that somebody dressed in brown, (I couldn't even tell if it was a man or woman, as once again, this happened pretty fast), opened up the back door of that car and just sort of toppled out. The car was pulling up pretty slowly, but it never did completely stop. This passenger too, looked very solid and real, but once they were out of the car, they had just disappeared too. I looked all around. There was no place they could have gotten to that fast, even if they were running, which they weren't. I wondered if the driver knew that they had a ghostly hitchhiker on board that wanted out at the bank. I then relayed this story to the lady that I was waiting for, because I had wondered if they might be somehow connected to her. She tried to make up a lot of excuses as to where they might have gone, so I was pretty sure that she didn't believe me, and decided to drop it. I still wonder about it though.
Then, the ghosts, here. Sometimes at night I can see them outside the french doors, but when I look again, they are gone. I still don't know about them. But, last week I saw one out there in stark daylight. That's a first. I thought it was a real person, but there wasn't anybody out there.
Last, but not least, Captain Hood. Captain Hood was one of the first graduates of West Point. He died in the 1840s; he was in his thirties. His tomb was robbed. The robbers stole his body and tossed it all around. It was never recovered. There was a monument there too, but it has since been moved. While there, I could hear somebody walking around behind me. There wasn't anybody there. But, if You look towards the end of my video, one of the last stills, to the upper right hand corner, You can see him, just where I heard him rustling about. Now, I'm not certain if this is connected to Captain Hood or not, because on our way to the tomb, we also passed a motorcycle accident, where a man, also in his thirties, was killed; but right after returning home, before I even got a chance to look at the photographs, something tugged on my shirt twice. Another interesting thing is that Ron, also made a video of the tomb, only on his phone. Now, that phone is possessed. Since he made that video it only flashes this strange screen and will not work at all otherwise. Other people say they call it and leave messages, and that it works; but it doesn't. It won't even ring. It's dead.
The ghost of Captain Hood,
to Possum Hollow is bound,
searching out his stolen body,
that was scattered all around.
In a thorny thicket,
the crow has built his nest,
crying for the Captain,
still he cannot rest.
The stones, they are a ruin,
the bones, returned to clay;
but Captain Hood still lingers,
longing for the day...
https://www.zazzle.com/z/agjdspfz?rf=238991865693617890
The Star
You know, everything is what you make of it. Time to count your blessings and realize how lucky you are. Everything is going to be alright.
Sunday, January 22, 2023
Ghost Stories XIX
Posted on December 7, 2010 at 8:47 AM
I've only just realized that I've totally neglected mentioning another haunted house in the place where I grew up. I can't really call this a second-hand ghost story, but it does involve my two best friends. They had more experiences there than I, the one lived there; but I can vouch to say it's haunted.
The house is just a couple of streets away from my grandparents' old house, and, in fact, the ghost there, knew my grandparents too. It had belonged to my best friend's ex-husband's grandparents. It was the grandfather who haunted the house. First, while there, I did get the strange feeling that somebody else was around, and I could hear somebody upstairs when nobody was up there. I asked my friend about it, and she said, "Oh, yeah, it's Brian's grandfather. Sometimes he spies on me, and I get the willies." Also, she would have strange dreams while sleeping there. And, for a while, the grandmother, his wife, was away in a home, before she passed away. She kind of lost it and would think that she was back at home with her husband sometimes. She would even call cabs to try to get back home; although, she actually didn't really know where she was at that time.
Anyways, my first experience while there was when my friend gave a sex party, not an orgy or anything, just one of those Sassy Sensation parties where women get together to buy sex toys, lingerie, and things like that. Well, the hostess went to make a champagne toast, when suddenly the glasses just shattered out of nowhere all over her. I said, "Brian's grandfather doesn't like that."
The next thing was even wyrder. I had brought my other friend over for the first time. We were all out on the porch when my friend went to the bathroom. When she got back, I said, "Do you want to leave?" I didn't know why, at the time, since we hadn't been there very long, but she just looked funny and very white, whiter than usual. She said, "Yeah." So, we left. A couple of weeks later she told me what had really happened to her while she was in the bathroom. Getting ready to pee, she heard an old man's voice say, "Get Out!" The first time scared her. The second time, she said, "Okay, I'm trying!"
Then, the day of my friend's wedding, as they had been living there a bit before they got married, I was upstairs in one of the bedrooms. There was a lot of commotion downstairs at the time, with the wedding party and pictures. The door shut. First, I thought somebody was playing a prank on me, but when I couldn't unlock the door, that only locked from the inside, I got scared and started beating on it and yelling for somebody to let me out, as I was afraid that they'd forget about me and leave without me with all the wedding day distractions. The door did eventually open and let me out, but it was pretty scary.
They don't live there anymore, but I'm betting the grandfather still does.
Ghost Stories XVIII
Posted on November 2, 2010 at 8:09 AM
Strange but True...
I realize I seem to binge on these ghost stories, then you won't hear another from me for a year, but that's just how it goes. Besides, these are not really ghost stories, but I'm not sure what to call them, or make of them. I just know they're true. I've told a few these tales, but they haven't gotten around, since they are so wyrd. But, since they don't have anything to do with The Little People, so far as I know, I ought to document them in order.
First, I used to drive Route 30, The old Lincoln Highway, a lot. It's a favorite winding mountainous road. Once while I was in Gettysburg with my best friend, she had a nightmare. It was on Route 30, and I had wrecked. She was very scared. I always said you'd have to be a fool to drive the road during a snow storm. Of course, I became that fool. It was a freak snow storm in March and the hills became a sheet of ice. I had totally lost all control of my car and was tearing down the mountain with my life flashing before my eyes. It's awfully cliche, but anybody that has had this happen to them knows that's the only description for it. I had reached something of a peace. I wasn't really scared of my certain death off the side of the mountain, when in my mind's eye, as that's the only way to describe it, as I didn't actually see this, but knew as sure as anything that my car was stopped by a big hand in a cloud. It was like The Ace of Cups, if you want the Truth. At the very same moment, my car not only miraculously stopped, but I had to turn the key to start it back up. I think it was God, and have been a hard core fatalist since.
Next, fast forward a few years... New Orleans. I have heard voices in my head while in New Orleans, literally SCREAMING at me. They seemed to come with those little rogue storms they have down there. The thing of it was those voices were right. I did not recognize them, nor do I pretend to know who they were or where they came from. Although I have spent a lot of time in New Orleans, besides just feelings, unfortunately I have no great personal ghost stories from there. Just this, which is wyrd as it gets. I was staying at an old manor on Lake Pontchartrain. While asleep, something bit me so hard to wake me. I jumped up, certain to find a snake in the bed. It was so real that I was convinced, then, that a snake must be hiding in the box springs. Nothing. It wasn't an insect. Nothing was there. Still, I had a hard time sleeping there, after that.
Finally, I must conclude with some familiar spirits. I never saw my grandfather, like I did my Grandma, although it could have been him that put his hand on my shoulder; but my cousin, who, as a boy, had inherited his old room, used to not only see him but chat with him. This I believe, as he came along after Grand Pap's passing, and Grand Pap would have wanted to know him. We've had a lot of tragedies in the family, unmentionables, that I can't discuss, but I can allude to what happened. A family member that I was as close to as anybody was, passed away. I hadn't been back to that house since it happened... years... My other aunt came to live there, and I was visiting with her last summer. It was August, very hot, upper eighties that day. I was outside, on the back porch, close as anything where it had happened, and it was so cold back there as to give me goosebumps up and down. I didn't stick around back there for long, I assure you. This relative of mine had been known to stir up some trouble back in his time, and I wouldn't want to tempt him.
Dreams 1/22
Dreamt Suzie and I were starting a new job. It was very strange because although it was in the neighborhood where I grew up, it was supposedly at a clothing store like LERNER'S at the mall. The mall is empty, but the work was in a small ranch that does not exist down the street from the house where I grew up. We were out in the front yard at night. Then, we were in the house, in a work room, like a sewing room, full of spools of unwrapped muslin. The woman, our boss, was small with long dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail.
Saturday, January 21, 2023
Ghost Stories XVII
Posted on November 2, 2010 at 1:10 AM
I'll try this again. Just once more. I had only just completed this story, to have it vanish into thin air, which is always annoying. I'm relentless, I know it, but Fort Mifflin is haunted too. It was bone chillingly cold; my teeth wouldn't stop chattering. I was dressed warm enough too. First stop on our tour was the house with the biggest fireplace and the cauldron. Upon entering, I heard somebody clambering around upstairs, although, supposedly nobody was up there. There was a girl standing in front of me, only every time out of the corner of my eye, I'd see a heavy -set man with a beard at her back. When I'd look straight at her, he was gone. At that same time I was watching out the window, towards one of the casements, the old Hobbit hole prisons. A large group had just entered the hill, but I could see something going on just outside the entrance; something like a flickering mist, but with human motion. I tried to take some photographs, but they'd turn out black. In fact, all of my photos of the casements, and a lot of other pictures would just come up black. Out of curiosity, after getting home, I enhanced these black pictures. These are the pictures of the colored orbs. My camera did seem to be acting up, but I don't have any orb issues with it. They look more like bubbles and lights. And, the lights were there. I doubt these are all dust and insects. Anyways, I think that ghost would come out of the hill just to avoid getting squished by the crowd. I did get the sense of a little girl out on the grounds, but this could be pure suggestion. I did think I saw something cloudy mussing about just beyond the big wooden doors near the flag as well. Some people report bad feelings from the old cells. I didn't have any, but there were bad smells; easily attributed to any of the large tours shuffling around. The Ghost Hunters said a light came on upstairs in the officer's quarters. Perhaps, but that well may have been due to an airplane, as an airport is next door. The lights from the planes are so bright to light up the windows. I think that's why The Screaming Lady still screams.
Still, besides, the orbs, if You look closely, you can see lots of ghosts picked up by night vision camera that deceived my eyes. First, the pictures of the big white house, there is a lady in a long white nightgown on the far right end of the top balcony. She looks candlelit. She was not there. Nobody was on the top balcony, but the crowd on the porch are all breathing. Also, the cannons, in front of the same house, look closer to the snouts, between them a somewhat transparent man in Civil War uniform is standing. He's wearing a cap and his arms are crossed or something. The dark head and shoulders visage as approaching the fort cannot be mistaken and is very scary, as he was not there either. Nobody was. The lady shows herself again in the front right hand side of the picture of the long single storied house. She's in the nightgown again, candlelit, this time more transparent; looks as if she's crying. Her hair looks unwashed, as if she'd been in bed a long time, maybe. The photograph of a large white orb in front of the blacksmith's shop is definitely interesting. That was not a plane. I know, because I had waited for the planes to pass to take that picture. It's like a huge ball of energy or something... This one did not turn out black originally either, and it's not The Moon. Besides the flag, the other dark orbed photos are of the casements, for the most part. I find them intriguing. You may think what you will, but I think Fort Mifflin is haunted.
3 / 3
Dreams 1/21
Dreamt of my grade school best friend only we were adults, in college. The dream took place in what seemed to be an old train station. I think it was Christmas break, and my girlfriend had already left for home with another friend. There was some mix-up with my luggage. I was looking for it. The place was expansive, old-fashioned, and full of rich dark wood. I was walking across wooden beams. There was a teacher, he was very tall and good-looking with dark hair. I remember being in a very enclosed, dark little restroom with green accents, much like a commode on a train. When I got out some plump woman with dark hair was there.
Friday, January 20, 2023
Ghost Stories XVI
I'm calling this chapter second hand ghosts, although I can vouch to say the first house was most certainly haunted, as I'd spent time there.
When I was an undergrad a very good friend of mine lived in an old two story white house, right across from the convenience store. It has since been torn down. She lived there with several other girls. The house was always terribly cold, so cold to need a sweatshirt in August. When I was there, I'd always hear somebody walking around upstairs, but my friend would say that nobody else was home. She'd also tell me about their haunting experiences. It seemed the ghosts there, and she said it was an entire family, enjoyed messing with the blondes the most. The one girl had her head pushed under water while in the bathtub. Another had her foot grabbed while in bed. I also noticed that some people did not seem like themselves while there. It's as if their personalities would change and they would become disturbed, violent, or moody.
My second bit is second hand, from my mother, who seldom has ghostly experiences, except in her dreams. We were in New Orleans, The French Quarter, at The Hotel St Marie on Toulouse Street, where I always stayed, when in the quarter. All the times I've stayed there, I never had any ghostly happenings; but I always stayed upstairs, in a room with a balcony, where my parents were staying out in the courtyard by the pool. My mother was in her bed, doing her nails. My dad was in the shower. She didn't see anything, but she felt somebody sit down on the corner of her bed.
After my mother's dog passed away she also swears she heard him snoring next to her while she was resting out on the patio.
Ghost Stories XV
Animal Ghosts...
Since I'm still up and don't want to try to sleep again tonight, I remembered that I hadn't told you about the happiest ghost in the house. And, since I haven't, I should start at the beginning with my experiences with animal ghosts, since I've probably had as many animal ghost sightings as people, anyways.
My first experience is not a ghost story, not really. It is about my favorite dog, Hoagie, who passed away when I was thirteen. Hoagie was sixteen when he died, so he was my big brother. Hoagie was always looking out for me. Being half collie, he had those shepherding instincts. I've actually written an entire little book about him already though, so I'm just going to get on with his afterlife. I had a friend when I taught, who was also a teacher, and I suppose we had something in common. For one thing, she was the only other person that I knew personally, that had a nightmare during the morning hours of 9/11. Yes, she had the second sight, as I'd call it. Anyways, I had been in England and was relaying my trip to her. For some odd reason I told her that I kept tripping over my own feet while over there. I'm usually a pretty graceful enough girl and just attributed it to their old uneven sidewalks and cobble stones. But, my friend said, "Have you ever been to Lily Dale?" At the time, I hadn't. Being from Erie, she frequented the place. It is a spiritualist psychic community. She said, "There is a psychic there that says when you trip over your own feet, it is actually an animal spirit guide under your feet. I don't know why, but I've always thought that you had a big dog around you." That set me really to wonder, because my best friend had told me that while I was gone, my mother had been calling out to Hoagie's spirit to watch over me; she was worried, because I had gone to England alone.
On to Lily Dale, then. Lily Dale definitely deserves a mention among my ghost stories anyways, and this happens to be the chapter for it too. Lily Dale is not easy to find, as it sits atop a hill, nestled back in the woods of New York, not far from Lake Erie, and the internet maps that I had printed out at that time had it all ass-backwards. After finally finding the place, I just pulled off and parked my car the first spot I found. As I got out of my car, I felt a very deliberate and kind hand on my shoulder. I was not only not at all afraid, but felt guided, and wondered off into the woods, straight to their lovely forest chapel with the old stump and pet cemetery. While there, I had intended on visiting with a psychic, of course. What other reason do folks have to venture to Lily Dale? But, something was stopping me. For one thing, there were dead birds littering the sidewalks, I mean, they were everywhere. It gave me such a bad feeling, that I skipped the psychic altogether. When I got home, a family member died the very next day, unexpectedly.
When I lived in Oakland, I had this cat. She was wicked and hated me. She attacked me several times. Since she seemed to worship my ex, I left her behind with him. Right after I moved away, she died, under my bed. She was not a very old cat. I took her death very hard, for although I believed she hated me, I still loved her and cared for her. Right after I moved into the new house, even before I had heard of her passing, I heard a cat clawing up the stairs, then crying at the window. There weren't any cats around. I didn't hear it anymore after that though, so I think it was her, not some ghost cat associated with that house.
When my brother's cat had died, it was very sudden, a brain aneurysm. I don't think he even knew that he was dead, as the entire family had seen him after his passing. There he would be, in his old spot, plain as day, looking alive as ever; only the next minute he'd be gone. I haven't seen him in awhile though since that, so he may have since passed on.
Before I get on to the resident ghost though, I must go back to a past chapter, as I have somewhat of an update on that saber toothed cat ghost that Shiner and I saw. Remember how I said that it was smaller than the North American saber toothed tiger as we know him? Well, interestingly enough, just about the time that we spotted him, (and we've never seen him since), they discovered a load of saber toothed cats in caves in the desert of Australia, and they were, indeed, much smaller than the North American variety. I'm not really saying that this was a definite premonition of the Australian discovery, however, as that does not explain why Shiner would have seen it too. If I remember correctly, those were marsupials too, and this area is heavy with possum... Who knows? But, it is a strange mystery.
Now, Packer. Packer is the ghost of a Britney Spaniel that used to live here, before us. He died, here, too. I have seen, heard, and sensed him. The first time I saw him running through the den, and mistook him for Shiner, only thought he looked big. That is, until Shiner walked in the door; he had been out at that time, and I was alone in the house. The next time I was sitting here, in the dining room, I sensed him at the french doors, and heard him breathing. Shiner was upstairs in bed at the time. Just the other day, I was sitting on the floor in the hallway, going through the closet. I heard a dog's wet snuffle breathing from the door jamb. Thinking it was Shiner, I was ready to play, until I opened the door to discover nobody there. Shiner was in bed, as usual. I have also seen him at night, just a flash of white, outside the french doors. A couple of weeks ago I was cleaning underneath the refrigerator when I found a lump of old dog food. It must've been Packer's, as Shiner wouldn't eat that slop.
1 / 2
Thursday, January 19, 2023
Ghost Stories XIV
Posted on September 25, 2009 at 11:29 PM
Point Pleasant
There are more than a couple of reasons why I have been putting off writing down this particular experience. First, I'm not sure whether to call it a ghost story or not, that is, I have no proof, not even for myself, which I consider important; because, believe it or not, I may be a scientist by nature, a naturalist, or what have you... So, we will have to refer to my intuition. Not that I knock it, I probably have more faith in it than anything else these days, but You cannot prove intuition, not really, not scientifically anyways. Secondly, this tale is hardly a welcome poster to come to Point Pleasant. I'll never go back. Ron just said today, "Let's go back to Point Pleasant", while he was looking at my cool Moth Man magnet hanging on the fridge. He must be joking. I don't advertise myself as a medium or anything, I do, however, realize that I have some gifts or sensitive peculiarities at this point, maybe I've always known about. But, at any rate, you cannot take this story as The Gospel Truth. I don't. I can't bring myself to, anymore than I could venture back to Point Pleasant. The irony of it is somewhat astounding.
I also can't say that I'm sorry that I went. It was an experience, after all. When we first arrived, I just wanted a cup of coffee. Good luck with that. The place is eerie...a real ghost town. It just gives the appearance that it is actually inhabited. Upon closer observation, you will see that nearly all the shops and restaurants are closed. Ask somebody... Ask them anything... You will get a glazed look and a grunt... Except for the guy in The Moth Man shop, he does speak English. We stayed at the historic Lowe Hotel, a grand old establishment with a balcony dining room, gilded moldings, an old organ, and an extraordinary green tiled fireplace in the lobby. We had an entire wing, overlooking the river, with, what should have been a lovely view, complete with sitting room, guest room, and adjoining hallway. I'm peculiar, but the place was very dirty. Ron was getting angry with me, but he had to admit how filthy it was when I discovered dirty towels in the bathroom. I tried being nice, as he loves West Virginia, and said, "It's probably the nicest hotel in the state." Once again, he had to agree. But, this story is not about insults; it's actually, just the facts, or how I saw it, for what it's worth.
We both liked the Moth Man film, and my best friend had read the book and loved it too. My other best friend wants to actually visit Point Pleasant in the worst way. After I had that wyrd experience with the voice in the drain, I was fascinated enough with The Moth Man to make him my Death card in my Tarot. I did not see the Moth Man, but I will say that I wouldn't doubt it, not after a trip to Point Pleasant. Just being there made me a believer. The place has the worst feeling about it that I've never encountered like that before. I have been to Gettysburg countless times, many other battlefields, but none of them had this feel like Point Pleasant.
I will call it a vibe, a disorienting feeling of pure badness. That sounds awfully childlike, but that is the best way that I can describe what I felt: sheer negative power and influence. After checking into the hotel, we walked around the town, which took about a minute. There is an old Confederate General's house. We know things did not go so well with him. I learned some things, like I knew that there were some Indian wars about the area, in the woods, I believed; but I didn't know The Revolutionary War began there and The Civil War was fought there too. Now, I can say that I'm not surprised. As we were walking towards the point, the place where two rivers meet, where the bridge collapsed, where the natives buried their dead and believed that spirits abide, I was getting cranky. An old log cabin resides at the point. While there, Ron, went right into the cabin, but for some strange reason at first, I couldn't do it. I sat down outside. I saw, in my mind's eye, someone who I knew was not there. An Indian, a native, his hair was pulled back with some braids and two feathers, a red and a white. He wore buckskin, a vest and pants, and had a type of wrap, red, and some other colors, around his shoulders. He was talking to me. His lips were not moving, but I could hear him in my head. He told me his name, which I did not understand. He began to tell me such things as I'm not sure that it's even legal to put into writing, another reason I've put off the telling. Basically, he wanted me to set fire to everything. That is putting it mildly. He was very angry. There was a fierce wind that blew right through me all during this brief encounter. There is a monument there, alongside the cabin, an obelisk. He told me not to read it, to forget, forget it all and knock it down. My eyes began to well with tears, then a searing sensation tore through my intestines. Ron came out of the house and coaxed me in, he was getting very angry and angrier by the minute; he thought, with me, but I knew it was the negative influence of the place affecting different folks differently. Inside the house there hung a beautiful seed mosaic, huge, very detailed, something like two-hundred years old. It was lovely, but I had to get back to the hotel, I was very sick.
Back at the hotel I threw up five times then passed out, only to awaken to what felt like a hangover, only I hadn't had a drink. I did, however, have a dream, totally unrelated to The Indian, I believe: a woman, in a gray, circa early twentieth century type of gown with corset. I think she is somehow related to the hotel, maybe even that particular room. She had brown up swept hair and was very pretty. I painted her, Mrs. Gray, I call her. Then, I got up, alone, and haunted the hotel, myself, that night, in search of a cup of coffee that I never did find. I bet that's all that most ghosts want or are looking for anyways...a freaking cup of coffee...Point Pleasanters have not heard about Starbucks. Whether that is good or bad, is, once again, besides the point. I went outside for a smoke. The place was dead to the world, more quiet than the countryside, so quiet, that, itself, was scary. I couldn't even hear any bugs or night birds. Then, the strangest sight startled me for a moment, a huge gray manx cat, who is a rare enough find, himself, strutted down the street, alone, totally mindless of me, as if I did not exist, and he owned the place. I think he does. Then I heard a cough, a carny, setting up for Fourth of July, scurried from his tent, that sent me back to our sitting room with the creepy view over the dark rivers. I painted Pleasantry, trying to cheer myself.
The following morning, (I did, survive, as the hotel does provide coffee, Thank God, in the morning), we went to The Moth Man Museum, which is worth the trip, as long as you don't try to spend the night. We also walked down along the rivers. Artists are working on an expansive mural there, and I could not help but notice how like the Indian I saw were the figures there. I think The Moth Man has probably flown away by now, along with everything else from Point Pleasant, but I wouldn't be surprised if you hear about him coming back either.
2 / 2
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