I’ve always loved a good ghost story. I’ve culled together quite a collection of paperbacks that tell stories about New England’s hauntings. Little did I know I could write a book on my own experiences….because little did I know twelve years ago, when we moved into our new old house (c.1767), that we would be co-habitating with a 200+ year-old dead guy (and company).
Yes, it’s true. I wish it wasn’t, but it is what it is. Friends who are sensitive to this sort of thing have felt the undeniable energy that circles from the dining room with the big cooking fireplace through the parlor and back into the hallway and stairwell.
The “presence” in the back hallway and stairwell is where quite a bit of the unexplained occurs.
Back when we first moved in, I could smell apple pie baking in the middle of summer. One night, after turning off the lights and trying to get to sleep, we were startled by the loud sound of someone (an adult someone) falling down the stairs – right outside our bedroom. Our son Conor was fast asleep in the bedroom right across from us. Murph and I were so startled, and such cowards, that we quickly pulled the covers over our heads and pretended that we didn’t hear that!
Since then, there’s been a man’s voice coming from that direction, as well as a glimpse from my peripheral vision of a tall blonde young man with a white high collared shirt walking into the parlor. My knees buckled at that one.
One of my sensitive friends says she sees/feels the presence of two people – one large burly gentleman in a heavy coat, and a younger man. She said that they don’t really understand what I’m doing (they must be referring to my obsessive re-styling of the place) – but that they like it! I’m so glad.
….to be continued.